2 comments/ 21274 views/ 10 favorites The Mentor Ch. 01 By: petitmort Eve was late. She was late and she always hated it when she wasn't punctual. She prided herself on being organized, having her act together. No head-in-the-clouds reputation for this writer-to-be. She wanted to show the world that a creative person could also be efficient, get things done, be on time. Now she was late. Shit. This wasn't just any meeting either. It was her first meeting with the professor from her most important class: creative writing. Professor Brett Michaels -- THE Brett Michaels -- had scheduled one-on-one meetings with each student in his advanced short story seminar. He was going to critique the writing sample she'd submitted to get into the class. She felt excited about the prospect and, frankly, a little nervous. She walked purposefully along the cobblestone walkway, past the neo-classical facade of the administration building, towards the stately brick building which housed the English Department. Students scurried to their classes or stood talking in small groups. Eve hurried up the steps and pulled open the heavy door. Eve was a junior and relatively new to the University having recently transferred from a two-year school in her home state. The semester having just started, she'd yet to meet a lot of people or make many friends. She had decided to transfer mostly to take advantage of the writing program. In particular, she was anxious to take classes with Prof. Michaels, the celebrated author, who had recently joined the faculty. She had read almost all of his books and short stories. She found him brilliant, a scintillating speaker and, in a word, hot. She had worked hard on the writing sample she had to submit to get into his class, and was thrilled when she got in. Ascending the marble stairs towards Professor Michaels' office, her boot heels echoing in the stairwell, she wondered if she'd dressed appropriately. She was wearing a Merino wool skirt that hugged her nicely-shaped ass and showed off her long, lovely legs. A crisp cotton blouse--with several buttons undone--outlined her generous bosom. It was a dressier outfit than she'd normally wear around campus, and she now wondered why she'd chosen it. But there was no time to think about that now. She tucked her silky blond hair behind her ears and continued on. Finally, she arrived at the office door, #201, and knocked. "Come," the voice inside declared. It was authoritative, perfunctory. She opened the door slowly and peered in. Professor Michaels was sitting behind a large walnut desk in front of an enormous window overlooking a stand of maple trees. Two large bookcases flanked the walls on either side. He spoke without looking up. "You're late," he said simply. "In the future, please be prompt." She stepped into the office, flustered. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I had a bit of trouble finding your office." He peered at her over his reading glasses. He was around 40, with a full head of brown, wavy hair swept straight back. "Sit down. Please." He regarded her with a look that seemed to bore into her. His intelligent, appraising eyes were deep brown, his face clear and handsome. She sat in a Windsor armchair opposite his desk, placing her book bag on the floor. She looked up and he was still looking at her. He returned his gaze to the papers in his hand. "I've been re-reading your story in preparation for our talk." She swallowed. She didn't know what to say so she just nodded. "Before I give you my opinion," he said. "I'd like your assessment." "My assessment?" she asked, eyebrows raised. She hadn't expected this. "Yes," he said, waving the paper in his hand. "What does the writer think of her work?" Eve blinked and looked down at her boots. "I don't know," she muttered. "I guess it's pretty good." "You guess it's pretty good," he parroted. "Surely you can do better than that?" His tone was playful, but it wasn't letting her off the hook. "I mean, I like way the story unfolds. The plotting is okay. I think the characterizations are a bit ... thin." He looked at her for a long moment. "I agree with your assessment." He rose from his chair, removed his glasses, and gazed at the woods outside. He was tall and fit, even better looking in person. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I think the characters are indeed underdeveloped, and there's an overall timidity in your writing that you must learn to overcome." Eve listened intently. He turned to face her. "And yet, on the whole, I must say I think you have tremendous potential as a writer." Eve allowed herself to breathe again. "Thank you," she said softly. He leaned on the desk, raising his eyebrows. "Unfortunately, that potential is not very evident in this story." She felt as if he'd kicked her in the stomach. "I'm sorry?" "Now, don't mistake me. You have a wonderful style. Your exposition is graceful. Your ideas are first rate. The skills are there. The ability, or the willingness, to use them to their best advantage alas is not." She leaned back in her chair, blinking. "How so?" He paced behind his desk, looking for the right words. "You say your characterizations are thin. That's putting it rather mildly. They're practically anorexic. The main character ... Cynthia ... she's a bit of a blob moving through a fog, isn't she? Tell me, are there elements of you in her?" Eve raised her chin, trying to suppress the defensiveness she felt building inside her. "Yes, I based the story on an experience that happened to me a couple of years ago." Prof. Michaels nodded, leaning on the front of the desk. "So you know her. Deep down. You have a sense of what motivates her, what makes her tick?" "Yes," Eve shrugged, "as much as I know myself." "You know what she wants, what she fears. You know her private thoughts." "Yes." "Then where are they?" Eve again cast her green eyes towards the floor. "This is a common mistake among young writers. Especially when writing semi-autobiographical work. It's a form of hiding. Self-protection." Eve looked at him, nodding. "You need to summon the strength to reveal yourself. To reach down, past the layers of armor and artifice, to the truth that lays beneath." He leaned forward, placing his hand on hers. "It's not easy," he said softly. "I know from personal experience." Eve smiled, appreciating his acknowledgement. "For example," he continued, walking to the bookcase. "She's attracted to her dance partner, her best friend's boyfriend. She desires him but refuses to act on it for fear of betraying her closest friend. She wants him, but she can't have him. A good premise, but how does that make her feel?" Eve thought a moment. "Sad...Rejected...Frustrated?" she offered. "Of course. Frustrated as can be, I should think. Perhaps even angry. She's with him day in and day out. Rehearsing together. Breathing the same air as him. Feeling his body against hers. She wants him, and yet she cannot act on her desires." He returned to the chair behind his desk. "You say this is based in part on your life?" "Yes." "When this happened to you, how did you feel? Did you just think: 'Oh well, this is an unfortunate situation', and that was it?" Eve shook her head. "What was your inner dialogue at the time?" "Well...I remember wondering what was wrong with me. Why he picked her instead of me." "Good. And did you fantasize about him?" Eve shifted slightly in her seat. This wasn't where she expected the conversation to go. "Fantasize? What do you mean?" "Did you think about being with him? Sharing his bed? Being intimate with him?" "No. He was my best friend's boyfriend." "And you never thought about him...touching you?" "No." He picked up a small figurine from his desk, a Japanese doll. After a long pause, he spoke. "You know, Eve, when I began as a writer I sometimes found it easier to write about surface things. You know, not to dig too deep. But as I grew older, and became more discerning, I realized that it was only when I peeled back the onion, when I stripped away the layers of defense, and illusion, only then was I writing about what was real. And that, in turn, made my writing more interesting, more authentic." He placed the figurine down on the desk, gently. "I believe we writers have a responsibility to hold up a mirror to the world. And that starts by holding up a mirror to ourselves." Eve was struck by the way he said "we writers." He had a way of being critical without clear-cutting her confidence. "I think you have the capacity to be a good writer, perhaps a great one. But great writing requires more than just writing well. It requires you to be brave. It requires courage." Now it was Eve's turn to look out the window. She took a deep breath. Finally, she turned to him. "I did think about him that way. I did want to share his bed. To take her place. I wanted to be intimate with him. And I felt terribly, terribly guilty about those feelings." He leaned back in his chair, smiling sympathetically. "Of course you did. It's human. That's what makes us complex creatures. We're full of conflicts and contradictions. If you're able to bring those feelings, those secret thoughts into Cynthia's character, then you're starting to add dimension and depth. Do you understand?" "Yes. Yes, I do. By showing the flaws, I can create a more realistic, three-dimensional character." "Exactly. And by combing the corners of your own imagination, and your own subconscious, you can infuse your characters with all the facets that make people real ... interesting ... human." Eve nodded. This resonated with her. She knew intuitively that her portrait of Cynthia lacked depth. She had been too careful about making Cynthia likeable, because she identified so closely with her. Cynthia was like Eve, and Eve was like Cynthia. They both were "good girls". They didn't want their dark sides showing. "Here's what I want you to do," Prof. Michaels said, touching the tips of his fingers together. "I want you to rewrite your story. Expand it. I want you to work on the characterization of Cynthia. Take us into her mind. Find ways to dramatize her inner life, her most private thoughts. Think you can do that?" "Of course," Eve replied, trying to sound confident. "Good." He stood up, smiling. "So, I'm afraid our time is up. Next time, please be on time and we'll have more time for our discussion." Realizing the meeting was over, Eve started to collect her things. As she moved to the door, she felt his hand touching gently against her back. "Bring her to life by looking at YOUR life. I look forward to seeing what you come up with." At the door, she turned to him, her face just a foot from his. She felt his hand, still touching her. She felt a surge of electricity race through her body. "Thank you...so much," she stammered. "Not at all. See you in class." He smiled at her, his eyes warm and twinkling. And with that she stepped out the door and into the hallway, where another student was clambering up for her appointment with the professor. Eve heard the door shut behind her and she was suddenly standing alone in the middle of the empty hallway. Eve's head was spinning. Walking back to her dorm, she replayed moments from their meeting. My God, Brett Michaels thinks I'm a promising writer! But he thinks I can't write characters with any depth... I can't believe how handsome he is in person... He thinks I lack courage as a writer... He said "we writers"... When he touched me, I thought I'd have a heart attack... Eve couldn't keep a constant thought in her head. The one thing she knew -- she was going to start work on her story right away. And stay at it for as long as it took. Back in her room, she immediately fired up her laptop. She opened her story "Bittersweet" and began to read it, looking for weaknesses, opportunities. Eve had written the story over the summer and had poured her body and soul into it. It involved a young dancer named Cyn who auditioned for, and was cast, as Juliet in a modern dance version of Romeo and Juliet. Like Eve, Cynthia was gorgeous, blond with slender hips and full, upturned breasts. Her romantic counterpart--her Romeo--was a handsome young dancer named Kyle. He looked like a Greek god, dark with broad shoulders and an athletic, graceful physique. At the start of rehearsals, Cyn learned the director's intention was to "sensualize" the story, to make it something that the audience could not only understand intellectually, but could feel viscerally. In his vision, the masquerade party was a celebration of pure sexual attraction, the balcony scene was a voyeuristic paean to idealized love; the bedroom scene was a lament to sexual fulfillment, gained and lost. For Cynthia, a principled woman who was modest by nature, the approach presented a moral dilemma. She was a dedicated artist who wanted to respect her director's choices, yet she had a strong moral fibre as well. She had difficulty shedding her inhibitions. Complicating things, she soon found herself increasingly attracted to Kyle. The first sign of trouble was when the director said he wanted the bedroom scene, where the young lovers awake after a night of lovemaking, performed partially nude. They rehearsed the scene over and over with Cyn arising from the bed, covered by only a white sheet, with her bare leg and hip visible to the audience. For their pas de deux, the director and choreographer wanted her to drop the sheet altogether, but Cyn refused. Ever the "good girl", she stuck to her guns, leading to conflict with the director. Meanwhile, at night, the cast would go out together as a group, drinking and dancing or hanging out at one of their apartments. Cyn found herself incredibly drawn to Kyle. He had a smoldering sexiness she found intoxicating. He was so good looking, she assumed he was gay, like most of the other male dancers. Then, to her shock, he ended up hooking up with her roommate Clare, another dancer in the ensemble. As their first performance loomed, the director and choreographer pushed Cyn to infuse her performance with more passion and sexuality. They devised choreography that placed the two dancers face to face, pressed against each other. Touching and caressing each other's bodies. Inside, Cyn was dying. She longed for Kyle but didn't dare act on her desires. Finally, on opening night, after giving a triumphant performance, she stood alone on the stage, watching as Kyle and Clare embraced behind the descended curtain, kissing each other deeply, as the applause from the theater faded in the background. Dammit, it WAS well-written! What does he mean none of my potential is evident in the story, that the characters are paper thin? It's called subtlety, Mister! Eve sighed and leaned back in her chair. OK, don't get defensive. Just get to work. She began rewriting the first paragraph. * * * * * * That night, Eve lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about the events of the day. From the sound of her roommate's slow, heavy breathing, she knew she was asleep. But Eve couldn't sleep. She felt antsy and couldn't turn off her brain. Had she done enough to breathe life into Cyn's character? What would Prof. Michaels think of the changes she'd made? What did he say to her again? "Comb the corners of your imagination." Dramatize her "secret thoughts". Eve replayed the story over and over in her mind. What were Cyn's secret thoughts? What did she think when she lay in bed at night staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts drifted back to her meeting with Prof. Michaels. The way he looked at her. The way he understood how hard it was for a young writer to find her way. The way he touched her. It may have been an innocent touch or, perhaps, it was something more. When they stood close, by the door, with his hand on her back, she felt almost as if he would embrace her. Or even kiss her goodbye. What if he had? She replayed the moment in her mind. "I've enjoyed our conversation immensely," he said, charmingly. "Rarely has a student so captivated me with her writing." She responded with gratitude and an appropriate measure of humility. "I feel I've learned so much from you in such a short time. It's quite remarkable." "Yes," he replied, "I feel there's a certain affinity, a connection, between us that I don't feel with other students." Her green eyes gazed at him, searchingly. "Is that really true? I'm flattered." "In fact, I'm tempted to cancel the rest of my afternoon meetings so we can continue our talk." He arched his eyebrows. "You know, call in with a low grade fever..." "I'm feeling a little hot myself," she said with a winning smile. With that, she felt his strong hand on her back begin to slowly pull her to him, until his face was a mere inches from hers. He slowly tilted his head and kissed her, gently at first, and then more passionately, his tongue finding hers. Her hands caressed his broad shoulders as her breasts pressed against his thick chest. He pulled her closer to him and she could feel his hardening cock. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the bookcase behind her. She arched her back, allowing him access to her breasts. His cupped them in his big hands. They felt so big and firm. He could feel her nipples hardening through the bra and sheer fabric. He unfastened the buttons on her blouse revealing a lacy white bra. He slipped off the blouse and undid her bra revealing her full breasts, already heaving with excitement. He squeezed them in his hands, his thumbs rubbing her nipples. She let out a soft moan. He kissed her lovely neck and shoulders, working his way down to the top of her breasts. She put her hand behind his head and guided his lips to her nipple, pressing his face against her full, firm breast. He sucked it hungrily, first one then the other, his tongue gliding over the pink areolas. She moaned again, louder, her pussy dripping with readiness. She wanted him, needed him, to be inside her. Now. She reached down and began to undo his belt, almost frantically. She unbuttoned his pants and slid her hand under his boxers, down his crotch, and over the hardest, thickest, sweetest cock she'd ever felt. She freed it from the confines of his pants, letting them fall to his feet, and began to slowly stroke him. His hand, meanwhile, was finding its way under her short skirt and beneath her panties to her now completely wet pussy. His fingers slid between the folds and coated them instantly with her wetness. He couldn't believe how wet, and how tight, she was. He pulled her panties down her legs, slowly. "You're so fucking sexy," he growled. Her hands reached down to cup his balls. "Please," she moaned, "I want you to fuck me. Right here." He lifted her in his strong arms and she wrapped her legs around his torso. He pressed the tip of his cock against her wet pussy. She reached and guided his cock to her hole. He slowly lowered her so the tip popped inside her. She gasped. His eyes fixed on hers, he pushed his cock into her. She cried out as she took his cock completely inside her. She'd never been filled so completely. Pressed against the bookcase, her arms spread wide, she felt him start to stroke her. Slowly. Deeply. Pulling almost all the way out and then plunging all the way in again. Over and over. Each time he filled her. And each time she cried out. She couldn't believe how good it felt. Over and over, he thrust into her, wanting her, needing her, like he'd needed no woman before. His hands where gripping her ass, her beautiful ass, raising and lowering her onto his hard cock. He felt like he couldn't get deep enough inside her, burying himself to the hilt, making her cry out. She was so responsive it made him want to cum then and there, but he held out. The Mentor Ch. 01 Note: It has been way too long since my last story, but I hope you enjoy this first installment of my new series. It sets the stage for things to come. I promise it will not take me as long to post the remaining installments! Feel free to send suggestions or feedback. ********** I first spotted her right after I checked into the hotel, as I turned to walk toward the elevators. The conference was being held in one of those modernistic hotels built in the 1960s or 70s with a large atrium and a bank of glass-walled elevators. Susan -- not Sue, or Susie, or any of those diminutive forms which would never have suited her personality -- could be seen through the glass of one of the elevators that was just leaving the lobby. She was easily recognizable in her stylish green suit (probably Ann Taylor, knowing her) with the skirt cut a good three inches above her knee, and her signature flaming red hair styled in a short wedge cut that had been so popular recently. She had what could only have been a $300 Hermès scarf tied around her neck, and was wearing pointy-toed shoes with a spiked heel at least two inches tall, the kind that Sarah Jessica Parker was always wearing on Sex and the City. The shoes only added to her height which must have been at least 5'9" in bare feet. She didn't see me, as she was turned and talking with what looked like a young graduate student. I was rooted to the spot, following the path of the elevator until I could no longer see them. I shook my head, smiled to myself, and continued forward to catch the next elevator with my suitcase in tow. ********** I had known Susan Bascom for about ten years, ever since we had finished graduate school at the same time. We were in different programs back then, both top-ranked and well-respected, and our areas of research were not exactly the same but were similar enough that our paths crossed frequently. We both had specialties in 19th century English literature, with her focus being on the representation of gender, and mine being the role of broader social forces in the development of the novel during that era (back when I was starting graduate school men did not do gender studies). We began our job search at the same time, enduring the meat market of the Modern Language Association Convention -- or MLA, as it is unaffectionately known -- as best we could. Susan was different than most of us, however, as she had had a moderately successful career in publishing before she went back to graduate school. She had risen to the rank of associate editor at a publishing house known for its highbrow literature list that was supported by more popular works. Thus, while most of us were in our late 20s when we finished school and began looking for our first academic posts, she was a decade our senior, knocking on the door of 40. To the casual observer, however, one would not suspect such an age difference as Susan was very youthful looking. She easily mixed with those of us who were younger, but the success she had achieved in the publishing industry was quite evident. Even in graduate school she always had the nicest clothes, the nicest leather briefcase, and the one time a conference was held close enough to her university that she could drive there rather than fly, we saw the fire engine red sports car she owned. Susan and I were both relatively successful on the job market, each of us receiving multiple offers when many of our peers received none. Mine were a touch better, however, and I landed a plum position at a well-known university. She ended up at an institution that could best be described as "second tier," not a bad one by any means but not in the same class as my employer. I would not describe our relationship as one of friendship, but we did generally see each other two or three times a year and always said "hello" and had some pleasant conversations. She had even met my wife Sarah a couple of times when she accompanied me to a conference. She and Sarah had gotten along fabulously, and I knew they stayed in e-mail contact with one another. In the ensuing decade, however, it was her career that had skyrocketed ahead of mine. Her first book came out to rave reviews less than two years after she finished her Ph.D., followed in quick succession by two more that were equally well received. She supplemented this with insightful journal articles that explored the representation of gender in mid 19th century England, and even branched out to examine the changing dimensions of sexuality during the same era. She was the darling of the academic conferences, the MLA and the smaller boutique gatherings like the one we were at now. She had received at least two major awards of which I was aware, and was granted tenure at her university in her fourth year, largely it was said to try to keep her there and discourage her from bolting to greener pastures. And much to everybody's surprise, she had stayed, even in the face of annual gossip that she was being wooed by more prestigious settings. Susan was also well known not just for her research but also for her teaching and mentorship of graduate students. She had a faithful flock of former students who were loyal supporters and were vocal in singing her praises. They could be found at conferences gathered around her, alongside her current students who she funded to attend the conferences and network in preparation for their own entry into the academic job market. There were always rumors about the nature of Susan's relationships with these students but I had never heard any concrete evidence that there was any untoward behavior. I chalked up much of the gossip to professional jealousy. While my career had developed respectably, it could no way be compared to the meteoric rise of Susan's. I had produced a couple of books that were well received but in no way comparable to hers, and while I had earned tenure in the standard sixth year, my scholarly reputation could best be described as somewhat below that of most of my star-studded colleagues at my own institution. Nevertheless, a professor's life is a good one, and while I knew I would never be among the glitterati at the MLA, I was happy. *********** I entered the elevator, punched my floor, and rode upward gazing down at the lobby. Unlike the MLA, which was an annual mob scene with upwards of ten thousand faculty members spread out through hotels all over the city, this conference was much smaller with only about 500 of us all in the single hotel. I much preferred this kind of gathering, where you could actually connect with colleagues, spend some time with them, and not be overwhelmed by a program book that listed over 4,000 sessions on everything from "Simultaneously Marxian and Queer Comments on Jameson, Allegory, and Method" to "Taking Away the Threat: Cribs and The Osbournes as Narratives of Domestication." As I looked down at the registration desk I saw a few more people queuing up to check in. The chime sounded and I got out on my floor. I looked left and right down the corridor trying to guess which way was my room. As I looked to the left about five doors down, I spotted Susan and what I presumed was her graduate student, both with suitcases in hand, standing in the hallway talking. They were quite engaged in a conversation about something and hadn't noticed me. I wondered if they were sharing a room together, a wicked thought I know, but as I mentioned there had long been rumors that Susan's relationship with some of her students -- both male and female alike -- went beyond mentoring into what some would describe as a "close personal relationship." She was single when she entered graduate school, I knew, and had not married since. I took the opportunity to check Susan out a little more closely. Even though she was ten years older than I and approaching 50, she still retained a great figure. She wasn't thin, by any standard, and had quite a few extra pounds on her, but she had great curves set off by a pleasingly plump ass and substantial breasts that she usually showed off with low-cut blouses underneath her suit. And she still had legs that were worth displaying under her short skirts -- well, short by academic standards at least. With her height, though, she carried the extra weight very well. Not wanting to get caught staring at the two of them, I quickly turned to the right and hoped that was the correct direction for my room. As I glanced at the room numbers, I saw that I was in luck. A few more doors down and I reached my room. As I shoved the keycard in the lock, I looked to my left down the hall toward Susan. I saw the student walking further down the hall by herself. As I entered my room, I laughed at myself thinking that Susan would have been sharing her room with a student. That would have been a little too obvious, even for her. I shut the door, put my backpack down, and began unpacking my suitcase. ********** The conference began early that evening with an opening address from an esteemed senior colleague in our field. I often wondered who bestowed the label "esteemed" on these people; all I knew was that the speech was invariably a yawner. The only way they got people to go was by scheduling it right before the opening reception, which offered free food and booze -- well, not quite "booze" by any standard, but cheap wine and domestic beer. After all, this is an academic crowd with relatively few financial resources. The opening reception always went late into the evening as the attendees soaked up their last freebies for the next few days. After a couple of years attending these types of gatherings I'd learned to avoid the free food and just enjoy a nice meal out. I thought of myself as somewhat better than the rest of them, not bowing to the offer of free -- but lousy -- food and wine, but holding out for a better meal. I had made plans a couple of weeks ago to meet up with my friend Carl who was similarly inclined, and we found a nice Japanese restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. By the time we got back to the hotel, it was about 9:00, and we could hear the noisy gathering in the ballroom. We went into the empty bar located in the lobby to have a drink and continue our conversation. As I sat down, I glanced over Carl's shoulder at the restaurant that took up the other corner of the lobby. Not surprisingly given the late hour and the fact that the conference took up all the rooms in the hotel, it was largely deserted. I did spot one attended table, though, and just as I was about to turn my attention back to listen to what Carl was talking about (something about Dickens, most likely, as that was who he spent most of his waking hours thinking and writing about), I realized that it was Susan Bascom and her grad student sitting there. They too must have decided to bypass the opening reception. Carl and I ordered our drinks, and he quickly downed his and excused himself, complaining about having to get up early for a panel on which he was presenting. I graciously offered to pay for his drink, and he just as graciously accepted. After shaking his hand and saying good-bye, I sat down again to finish my margarita. As I did, I glanced over again at the restaurant, just as Susan's graduate student was standing up, purse in hand. She began walking away from the table, and as she did, I examined her in more detail. Having been focused on Susan when I saw them earlier, I had not yet formed much an impression of her student. She was young, probably only about 25, and was wearing casual clothes, a loose fitting beige top and dark pants -- thus confirming her relative youth, as somebody further along in her studies would have been wearing interview clothes at this conference in order to impress potential employers. She was shorter than Susan, maybe 5'4" or so, and I could see she was relatively thin even in her loose clothes. She too had short hair, but unlike Susan's red locks, hers were brunette. Her face could be described as somewhat plain, nothing you would think twice about if you passed her on the street. As I signaled the waitress for my check, I watched the student cross the lobby and head toward the bathrooms. The bathrooms were down a small hallway off the lobby, between the restaurant and the bar. She entered the bathroom just as the waitress brought my check. As I reached for my wallet, I glanced over at the restaurant. Susan was paying her check, and as she stood up to leave, I saw she was still wearing the green suit I spied her in earlier. As she left the restaurant, she too headed toward the bathroom. Even though this brought her closer to me, I realized it would have been hard for her to see me, because of the position of some columns and large palms that helped separate the bar from the lobby. As the waitress walked away with my credit card, I watched Susan head down the hallway and into the ladies room. In the time since her student had gone in there, I hadn't seen anybody else go in or come out. By the time my credit card and charge slip were brought for my signature, a good seven or eight minutes had passed since the student had gone into the bathroom, and three or four since Susan entered. I thought this quite curious, the two of them in there seemingly all alone. I pondered what was going on as I signed the slip and put my credit card back in my wallet. I sat for another couple of minutes, finishing the last few drops of my drink, still keeping an eye cocked toward the bathroom. Neither of them had exited, and given the fact that everybody else still seemed to be enjoying the reception in the ballroom (which undoubtedly had its own set of bathrooms), nobody else had gone in. By this time I was incredibly curious, and wondering what the hell was going on in there. I thought back to the rumors that had circulated about the relationship between Susan and her students, and decided I had to investigate this further. I left the bar and headed toward the hallway where the bathrooms were located. I went down the hallway, which was long enough that one could not see the bathrooms from main part of the lobby area. As I approached the bathrooms, with the men's on the left and women's on the right, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure nobody was behind me. I knew the likelihood of anybody else coming to these bathrooms was slim, given that all of our colleagues were likely to still be enjoying the conference opening reception for some time. Seeing nobody there, I put my ear to the door of the women's room and listened for a few seconds. Hearing nothing, I slowly pushed the door open just far enough to poke my head in, and as surreptitiously as possible, glanced around the door. What I saw was nobody -- just the open area where the sinks were located, and a partition around which must have been located the toilet stalls. Once I determined that there was nobody right there, I quickly stepped inside, and quietly eased the door closed behind me. My first impression was that the women's room was much nicer than the men's room. There was carpeting on the floor, at least in the sink area, and a nice red velvet sofa and matching upholstered chairs. There was a selection of toiletries in the sink area for the women to use. Still hearing nothing, I quietly tiptoed toward the partition separating the sink area from the toilet stalls. As I came toward it, I heard a very faint and muffled woman's voice. I couldn't make out what it was saying, but it was clearly coming from the other side of the partition. I poked my head around the partition very slowly and carefully. Luckily, there was nobody standing on the other side. As I suspected, this section of the bathroom contained the series of toilet stalls. I slowly walked around the partition and stood immobile for a few seconds. A quick glance down the row of stalls confirmed what I suspected -- there was only one door closed, and it was the one at the far end, which was the handicapped stall. From where I was standing, I couldn't see under the bottom of the stalls, but I listened to see if I could pick up the voice again. Sure enough, I heard a voice coming from that stall. The carpeting continued from the sink area into this section, but then stopped right in front of the row of stalls. This allowed me to creep quietly toward the end of the row and the closed door of the last stall. As I got closer, I was careful not to get in front of the gap between the door of the stall and its wall, so as not to be seen by the occupants. I stopped a few feet before reaching the stall, still on the carpeting. From this position I could more clearly hear the voice, and it did not take me long to recognize it as Susan's. I bent down enough so as to be able to see under the walls of the stall, and confirmed my auditory conclusion by spotting Susan's bare legs and her stiletto heels spread wide and facing the door of the stall. I could see in front of her, kneeling on the tile of the floor, the trouser-clad legs of what had to be her student. I was now close enough to hear Susan's voice quite clearly, even though she was speaking quietly. "That's right, sweetie, you're doing just fine, just keep doing that," she said, in a soft and soothing voice. There were other sounds coming from the stall, but I was at an angle that I couldn't see what was going on in there, and I was fearful of being seen or heard myself. But from what I could see and hear, my mind started conjuring up quite a lovely image of that young grad student kneeling between Susan's legs. "Harder, sweetie, lick harder up and down." Now there was no question of what was going on in there, and Susan's voice drew me closer to the stall. I tiptoed a few feet forward, staying on the carpet so as to be quiet as possible. This brought me a bit closer, so that I could see a little bit through the crack between the door of the stall and the wall. But I was too far away to really see anything at all. But imagining what the young woman was doing to Susan had gotten me very aroused, and my pants were starting to tent pole as I had quite an erection. "Okay, now stop," Susan's said, still speaking softly but in a commanding tone. I could see under the stall that the student stood up, and I heard the rustling of clothes. I panicked, not sure what I should do. I was afraid if I started to move too quickly back toward the door, they'd hear me. I decided I'd duck into one of the other stalls and pick my feet up, so they wouldn't be able to spot my quite obviously men's pants and shoes under the stall. Just as I started to do this, the door to their stall flew open, and Susan came out, followed by the student. I was frozen on the spot, and I'm sure I must have looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. "Bob!," Susan exclaimed, not looking nor sounding entirely shocked to see me standing there. My first instinct was to run out of there, but I was worried about the off chance of somebody seeing me flying out of the women's room and what the implications of that would be. Before I could think any further, Susan said, "Don't move or I'll scream." That decided things for me -- the thought of Susan Bascom screaming bloody murder in the women's room, and what that would likely bring into there was not something I wanted to experience. So I just stood there, not saying a word nor moving. "You know Professor Arnold, don't you Laura?" she said, turning to the young lady next to her. As I now looked at her, standing there next to Susan, with dusty smudges on her knees and her hair slightly disheveled, she looked as equally embarrassed as I knew I must have appeared. She just lightly nodded her head, without uttering a word. "And that would be his erection," she said, laughing heartily and pointing toward my crotch. "Well, Bob, so nice to see you, though I didn't imagine this is where we'd first run into each other at the conference. I would ask you what the hell you are doing here, but I suspect I already know the answer to that one. You followed us in here, didn't you?" The Mentor Ch. 01 Now it was my turn to just nod my head, my mouth suddenly very dry and unable to articulate any words. I thought again about making a dash for it, but was afraid of what that might bring. And I was still worried about Laura standing there as a witness to this whole episode. "Okay, professor, follow me. You too Laura." Susan turned and walked back into the stall and grabbed her purse, followed by Laura doing the same. She then walked toward the sink area, me behind her, and Laura behind me. I didn't know what else to do other than just follow along, unsure what her plan was. She put her purse down on the counter next to a sink, and reached in and pulled out a small digital camera. After pressing a few buttons, she said, "Okay, Bob, now go stand over near the sofa." I did as she said, still unable to question or challenge her. I found that I was actually getting aroused, as even though I was scared about the situation in which I had found myself, I was also mesmerized by her commanding presence. She turned to Laura and said, "Honey, open the door and peek out to see if anybody is there." Laura immediately did as she was told, opening the door and sticking her head out. She let it go and reported to Susan, "No, Professor Bascom, there's nobody there." "Good. Now hold it open for me." Laura held the door open, and Susan stepped outside a few feet. She lifted the camera, and pointed it toward me. I could see that she was framing a shot that would include the bathroom door, with the large silhouette of a woman on it, through to me, standing in front of the furniture that quite clearly delineated this as a women's room. Susan smiled and quietly said, "Say cheese!" In a second, I saw the flash of the camera, and Susan stepped back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She turned the deadbolt lock on the inside of the door. "Now we'll have a little privacy, won't we? Won't have to worry about anybody disturbing us in here." She put the camera on the counter behind her. "And now we'll have a little souvenir of your visit in here, won't we Bob? And just in case anybody wants to question the photographic evidence, I have Laura here who will confirm that you were caught spying on women in here. Right Laura?" Laura once again meekly nodded her head, and Susan said to her in a sharper voice, "Is that the proper way to respond, my pet?" Laura quickly said, "No, Professor Bascom, I'm sorry." "That's better, sweetie." She turned to me and said, "By the way, Laura is one of my most promising grad students. I know she's going to have a great career ahead of her, aren't you my sweet?" "Yes, ma'am," Laura responded, without missing a beat. "So, Bob, how have you been?" she asked, turning back to me. I was still dry-mouthed, but managed to mumble, "I've been better," in a quiet voice. "What was that, Bob, I can't hear you. Sounds like you need a little reminder of the proper way to speak to me, just like Laura did. Please speak up and address me in a more appropriate manner." I stumbled for a second, not quite sure what she meant. But I knew I had to do something, so I responded by saying in a clear voice, "I've been better, Susan." All of the sudden, we heard a sound at the door -- somebody was trying to open it. Susan quickly said to us, "Go stand near that wall," and pointed toward the wall right next to the hinge side of the door. We both did as we were told, and Susan walked over to the door, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened it a foot or so. "Is everything okay in here?" I heard a voice from outside inquire "I'm sorry," Susan said. "My student is very sick, it must have been something she ate. She's using the facilities in here and was a little embarrassed at having anybody walk in on her, so I locked the door until she's done." The voice outside said, "Oh, I'm very sorry to disturb you -- is there anything I can do to help?" Susan responded, "Oh how sweet of you to offer, but that's okay, I think I have it under control." She then said in a whisper, but loud enough that we could hear, "She seems to be going back and forth from the sofa to the toilet, if you know what I mean. So I'm afraid she'll be in here for a little bit until I can get her up to her room." The voice replied, "Oh, that's fine, ma'am. With everybody in the ballroom, there's really nobody who needs to use this restroom. Let me get the 'temporarily closed' sign and I'll put it in front of the door. Then when you are done, just call the front desk and let them know. That way you won't be bothered. I hope your friend feels better." "Thank you, I really appreciate it," Susan said. With that, she closed the door and relocked it. Turning toward Laura and me, she said with a big smile on her face, "Now I know we won't be bothered in here. Now where were we? Oh yes, I remember now -- I was making sure Bob knew the proper way to address me." Now I was very nervous, realizing that I was at Susan's mercy and unlikely to be rescued from my predicament. "Now Bob," Susan continued, "You can address me as Professor Bascom, I think that would be appropriate given the situation you have found yourself in, don't you?" "Yes, Professor Bascom," I meekly replied, not knowing what else to do other than to go along with her little game. "Much better, Bob. Now listen up. Given what you've done by following us in here, which I would consider somewhat inappropriate for a man of your professional standing, you better do everything I tell you. Otherwise I'll share my nice photograph of you with a few select colleagues, backed up by Laura's confirmation of what you did. You'll do that, won't you pet?" she asked, turning toward Laura. "Yes, ma'am," she replied. "And you, Bob, are you ready to listen?" I was still stunned that I had found myself in this situation, but knew I had no choice. "Yes, Professor Bascom." " 'Yes Professor Bascom,' what, Bob?" "Yes, Professor Bascom, I am ready to listen to you," I replied. "Good," Susan said, smiling once again. "Here's what I want you to do. Go stand over in front of the sofa, facing me. And Laura, you go sit in that chair over there," pointing to one of the chairs that was facing the sofa. I did as she said, and Laura walked over and sat in the chair. "Now undo your belt buckle and lower your trousers to your ankles." I hesitated, not sure I could actually go through with this. But upon seeing my hesitation, Susan hissed in a stern voice, "Do it, Bob -- and you better start responding more quickly or you'll be sorry." Upon hearing the tone of her voice, I said, "Yes, Professor Bascom," and quickly undid my belt and lowered my chinos to my ankles, standing there in my boxer shorts. My erection was still there, and I was afraid it was visible through my boxers, as even though I was incredibly fearful of what was happening I was still very aroused by Susan's domination and control over me. I had a dress shirt on, so as I looked down I saw the shirt tails were at least partially covering my erection. "Very good, Bob, you're doing much better now. Laura, go over and unbutton his shirt, but leave it on." Laura did as she was instructed, walking over and undoing the buttons one at a time from the top to the bottom. The hands of this young woman -- who a few minutes ago had apparently been on her knees licking the pussy of the woman standing a few feet away -- brushing against my chest made me even more aroused. Once she undid the bottom button, the two halves of the shirt opened up, with my erection poking through between them, leaving no doubt as to the state of my arousal. "Hmm, it appears that you are enjoying this. Is that true, Bob?" I couldn't respond, I was so humiliated. The thought that my body was so aroused by Susan's control over me, combined with not just Susan seeing me like this, but her young graduate student seeing me in this state also, was just too much for me to comprehend. "Bob, I asked you a question?" I heard Susan say. I knew I had to respond somehow, that I couldn't ignore her. "I don't know," I replied, quickly adding, "Professor Bascom." "Oh, c'mon Bob -- a smart man like you? You're so good at doing research and reading the evidence, I shouldn't have to put two and two together for you, should I? First I catch you spying on Laura and me in here, with an obvious erection pushing out of your crotch. Then, when I start telling you what to do, I find that you still have a raging hard-on sticking out of your boxer shorts. Your mind may not know, Bob, but I'd say your body knows very well how it feels about this situation." She was absolutely right. I was conflicted, my mind telling me that I was in big trouble, but my body was clearly responding with arousal. I just stood there, pants at my ankles, hard-on pushing my boxer shorts out. I glanced for a second to my right at Laura standing there, and I saw her mesmerized by what was going on, her eyes darting back and forth from Susan to me. "Well, you don't need to answer for me, Bob, as I said I can clearly see for myself. You are definitely turned on by this, and I think I know why. It's because you're aroused by the thought of a strong, dominating woman -- one who is clearly better than you -- telling you what to do. That's it, isn't it?" She had me pegged, and there was nothing I could do other than to say, "Yes, Professor Bascom." She smiled back at me, just standing there with her arms folded, not saying a word, for what was probably only about 10 or 15 seconds, but felt like an hour. It was deadly quiet in the bathroom as Susan looked at me, and off in the distance I could hear the faint rumble of the other conference participants enjoying the reception. Oh, how I wished I hadn't been so smug about that and had just joined the others there. Then I never would have found myself standing half-naked in a women's room of a hotel, with Susan Bascom and one of her students watching me. Finally, Susan said to Laura, "Okay, pet, now pull his boxers down to his ankles." Without hesitation, she put her hands on the waistband of my shorts and slowly yanked them down. They caught for a second on my erection, but she continued, pulling my cock painfully downward until it snapped back up as the waistband finally cleared it. She deposited them at my ankles, on top of my trousers. I knew my face must have been beet red, the two women standing there looking at me like this. I was incredibly mortified at being here, but feared more the consequences of trying to extricate myself. I was fearful of what Susan would do if I didn't cooperate. "Now isn't that a pretty picture, Bob standing there with his little penis sticking straight out. Don't you think so, sweetie?" Laura, still standing next to me, said, "Yes, Professor Bascom, it is a pretty picture." I didn't get the impression that she was enjoying this one bit; in fact, she still looked scared herself of where this was going. Susan reached behind her and grabbed the camera once again. I immediately thought, "Oh god, no, not a picture of me like this." But I knew there was nothing I could do about it at this point. Susan raised the camera and held it a few inches from her face so she could see the screen. I saw the lens rotate in and out as she checked the zoom, and then once again the flash went off. Susan glanced at the screen for a few seconds and then smiled and said, "Yes, just lovely. You're going to continue to cooperate with me, aren't you Bob? You wouldn't want me to send this to a few of your department colleagues would you, or perhaps Sarah?" Knowing I was utterly defeated, all I could say was, "Yes, Professor Bascom, I will cooperate with you." Susan put the camera in her purse and snapped it shut. "Okay, now come here, pet." Laura walked over to her, and Susan said, "Now take off my jacket and scarf for me." As Susan said this, the image I had formed in my mind of her sitting in that toilet stall, Laura kneeling in front of her, came back into my head. I wondered if I were going to have an opportunity to see what had been I had been unable to spy a few minutes ago. The thought further aroused me, making my hard-on stick out even further. Laura walked behind her, eased the jacket off her shoulders, and carefully folded it and placed it on one of the chairs. It was clear she had done this with Susan's clothes numerous times before. She went back to Susan, and gently undid the knot of her scarf and took it from her neck. "Thank you, sweetie. Now be a good girl and tie it around Bob's eyes, will you?" "Yes, ma'am," she responded, and for the first time I thought I noticed a hint of a smile on her face. She walked behind me, scarf in hand, and I felt the cool silk over my eyes as she pulled it tightly and tied the knot behind my head. I could see very little other than some light coming in through the top and bottom of the scarf, but looking straight ahead I could see nothing. "And now my skirt, pet," I heard Susan's voice say, and felt Laura walk by me back toward Susan. I heard the rustling of fabric again, and felt Laura's presence as she went back toward the chair, presumably to place the skirt with the jacket. "Just sit down on the edge of the couch," Susan told her. Again, it was quiet in the room for a moment, and then I felt Susan walk by me toward the sofa. It sounded like she sat down, and I heard a soft sigh emanate from her lips. "Okay Bob, turn around, face the sound of my voice, and take two steps forward," she said. I turned and shuffled forward, being careful not to trip with my pants and boxers clumped around my ankles. I stood there, waiting quietly, hearing nothing but the soft breathing coming from the two women. "Now kneel, and lean your body forward slightly, spreading your arms wide and putting them on the sofa." I did as she said, understanding now what was going to happen. As I put my arms down, I felt a soft silk-like material enveloping my head. I realized it must have been the slip that Susan was wearing under her skirt. As it rested on my head, the musky scent of Susan's arousal hit my nostrils. It was quite evident that she too was turned on by what she was doing. I just stayed there, arms on either side of her legs, leaning forward with my head what must have been not more than a few inches from her crotch. She just kept me there like that, not saying a word. Underneath her slip, I could not even hear her or Laura's breathing. Again, it seemed like an hour that I was in that position, but it could not have been more than a minute. Finally, I heard her voice again. "Okay Bob, now it's time for you to learn a few things. It's time for you to understand that I am in control, and that you are at my mercy. Think of yourself as one of my graduate students, my dear, whose fate and future is entirely in my hands. If you are good and do as I say, then you will be rewarded. But if you are bad, your career will be ruined. Do you understand?" Once again, all I could say was, "Yes, Professor Bascom." She hesitated a few seconds, and then she said, "Now lean further forward and begin licking." ********** To be continued... The Mentor Ch. 01 "Oh, you go so deep!" she moaned. "So deep!" Knowing he couldn't hold out much longer, he lifted her off his cock and lowered her to the floor, grateful for the momentary respite. "Turn around," he commanded. "I want to fuck you from behind." Her eyes widened. "Oh yeah," she breathed, "I love that. Do that." He took her hips in his hands and turned her to face the bookshelf, bending forward, her hands gripping the shelf. "Spread your legs," he said in a low, authoritative voice. It sent shivers of excitement through her body. She couldn't see him, for she was facing a row of books, but she did as she was told. She was standing in her boots, bent over with her ass in the air, her legs spread. She felt a ribbon of wetness drip from her pussy down her inner thigh. He took his glistening, rock hard cock in his hand and gently rubbed her now swollen, pink pussy. "Do you like it like this? Huh?" he teased. "From behind?" "Mmmm-hmmm," she said, panting. "So much." He slowly pushed his cock half way inside her and back out again. "You like that? You want me to go deeper?" "Oh yeah," she gasped, "go deep, go really deep." He shoved himself into her again, three quarters of the way into her warm wetness. She moaned loudly. He pulled back out. "Do you want me to fill you up, baby? Huh? Do want me to fuck you now?" She was breathing heavily now, arching her back, her ass raised as if begging for his cock. "Yesss!" she moaned, "Please fuck me! Fuck me now!" He took her hips in his hands and pushed his cock all the way into her pussy. He felt the tip pressing against her cervix. She let out a moan. He started to pump her, thrusting into her, burying himself inside her dripping wet pussy. She let out a moan with every thrust, feeling him fill her up completely, spreading her. She was moaning "fuck me, fuck me" but it was so guttural, so primal, it was almost incomprehensible. With one hand, he reached around and found her clit, swollen and hard, and started to rub it; with the other, he found her breasts and pinched her nipples. A moment later, her pussy started to contract around his cock and her body began to shudder. He felt his own orgasm start in his extremities, gather in his groin and then explode out his shaft, shooting ropes of cum deep inside her. As her orgasm engulfed her, the last thing Eve remembered were her hands gripping a bookshelf holding a row of best-selling books by the acclaimed author Brett Michaels. Eve opened her eyes as she lay in bed, her finger slowly rubbing her clit, still breathing hard as she came down from her orgasm. * * * * * The following Monday, Eve scrutinized herself in the mirror. She added a little mascara to her lashes. This was unusual for her, as she was lucky enough to look striking without, or with very little, makeup. Still, there was something about going to his class that made her want to look her best. She turned from side to side, examining her reflection. Her breasts filled out her sheer blouse and her jeans clung tightly to her hips. She thought about buttoning her blouse a button higher but then didn't. "He already thinks you're a prude," she thought to herself. On her way to the seminar room, she thought about what she might find there. It was an advanced class and she was the only junior in a group of seniors and grad students. What would the other students be like? Would she be able to keep up? When she entered the seminar room, the other students were taking their seats around an oval table. Prof. Michaels was pulling papers out of his briefcase. She took a seat next to a serious looking woman wearing glasses. Around the table, she saw her fellow students for the first time. They looked older than her, more...worldly. Each looked fiercely intelligent and serious about their craft. There weren't a lot of smiles. At the head of the table sat Prof. Michaels. "Welcome to Advanced Short Story Writing," he said in his deep voice. "Each of you has been selected for this course based on the excellence of your writing. However, this is not a place in which you may rest on your respective laurels. You will be expected to push yourselves, and to push each other." Eve glanced at the other students sitting opposite her. The thought of this impressive bunch pushing her was pretty intimidating. Prof Michaels continued. "I have some ground rules. Criticism must be specific and, where possible, constructive. There will be no personal attacks nor will I allow disrespect to be shown to anyone. At the same time, there will be no hiding either. Writing, and criticism, can be a painful process but I want each of you to put yourself out there -- it is, quite simply, the best way to learn." Eve was starting to feel a bit sick to her stomach. The thought of this group giving brutally honest criticism of her writing was daunting to say the least. "I've had a chance to read each of your stories. A few of them showed promise. Most of them need work. A couple were substandard efforts in my view. No, I will NOT be disclosing in which category yours fell. Suffice it to say, you all need to raise your game. Any questions?" Across from Eve, a nice-looking guy with a shock of light brown hair covering his brow, raised his hand. "Yes, David." The young man, David, gave a mischievous smile. "I was wondering if we'd be given the chance to critique your work?" He asked his question in such a charming way, that it didn't seem arrogant at all. Professor Michaels smiled. "Good question. Yes, you will. I want us to be equals in this room. I will be subjected to the same gauntlet as you. Any other questions?" Eve thought about asking whether it was too late to transfer out of the class, but her hand stayed by her side. "Good, then we'll start today by getting acquainted. We'll go in a circle and tell a little about ourselves and what drew us to the craft of writing." Eve listened as the students each told their stories, eloquently and with deep intelligence. One woman, seemingly in her 30's, came back to school after starting a family. She had been an editor at a magazine. Another woman was a Rhetoric major and wanted to be a novelist. A man with wire frame glasses was working on his third novel. He was, as yet, unpublished. The young man with the light brown hair and mischievous smile, spoke next. He had studied theatre to be an actor but became interested in writing after performing in "Arcadia" by Tom Stoppard. He ended by telling the joke about the Polish guy who went to Hollywood because he wanted to make it big in show business. "He became a writer." Everyone laughed and he flashed a movie star smile. Eve liked him immediately. When it came to be Eve's turn, she cleared her throat, trying not to sound too tentative. "Well, I've been writing as long as I can remember," she began. "Diaries, poetry, the school paper. I started writing fiction when I was 15. I would like to be published, not just for the money, but because I think it will allow my voice to get out there. I want to reach people with my writing, I want to touch them. I know I have a lot to learn, and I'm honored to have a chance to learn it here with you all. For me, the important thing will be to commit -- to write truthfully and from the heart and that's what I'm working on right now." She caught Prof. Michaels' eye. He nodded appreciatively. At the conclusion of the first class, Prof. Michaels collected their revised stories. Eve felt a sense of dread handing over the reworked pages. What if he didn't like the changes she'd made? Would he decide to rescind his judgment that she had promise as a writer? As the last student filed out of the room, she took a breath, stood up, and handed him the pages. "I'm looking forward to reading your newly committed writing," he said with a smile. Eve let out a nervous laugh. "For better or worse," she said, with an attempt at nonchalance. Prof. Michaels smiled kindly. "I've no doubt it's for the better." Eve nodded and continued to the door. "Oh, and Eve..." She stopped and looked at him. "I've rearranged my tutorial schedule. Would you mind very much if we held ours during the weekend rather than on Monday?" Eve thought a moment. "No, that'd be fine." "Good. Would two o'clock Saturday suit? We could meet at my home if that's alright with you? "Sure." He pulled out a sheet of note paper, scribbled on it and handed it to her. "My address and phone. See you Saturday at 2pm?" Eve smiled. "Thank you. Um, see you Saturday." As she left the seminar room, she noticed her heart was pounding. The Mentor Ch. 02 It was the scent of perfume that first roused Kelly from her nap. She inhaled deeply as the scent began to awake her. Slowly she began to remember what happened and then where she was. She opened her eyes slowly and then looked up at Liz who still held her cradled in her arms. As Kelly lay there the full realization of what had transpired hit her. She was lying naked in the bed of an older woman how had just made love to her. Kelly felt very conflicted. On the one hand she believed that everything that happened was wrong, unnatural. Women did not make love with other women. It was against nature and her basic beliefs. Yet she could not get over the feeling of peace and contentment that she felt. To be made love to by this woman was so gentle and sweet. There were times when she had finished making love to Tom that she felt guilty. Guilty about enjoying it. Guilty about being naked in his presence. Yet, she felt not guilt, no shame with Liz. She wasn't sure what to do now. Did she want to stay or did she want to find some graceful way to leave. As she pondered this, Liz said, "Hello Darling! Are you rested?" Kelly smiled and absently mindedly caressed Liz's belly. "I feel well rested, but honestly Liz, I feel confused. I just don't know how to feel." Liz smiled and stroked the younger woman's hair. "I remember my first time. It was like being on a roller coaster. I didn't know how I should feel. It felt wonderful, yet I felt guilty. I felt sublimely at peace, but also very uneasy. I was torn." Kelly kept stroking Liz's belly as she replied, "I just don't know if this is even right. You know, between two women." Liz continued to stroke Kelly's hair and continued, "You are the only one that can answer that. All I know is that I never stopped loving my husband and I believe it made me a better and more sensitive lover. I just couldn't believe that anything that felt so good and so sweet could be wrong. The love I share is just an extension of what I feel. How can sharing love be wrong? It doesn't mean I'm a lesbian, it means that I have expanded my horizons and know how to love in other ways. No matter what happens, I hope we can always be friends. If we can't be lovers, then I hope we can remain friends. But that's up to you." Kelly thought about all the Liz had said. As she did, she found herself unbuttoning Liz's blouse and caressing the bare flesh of her belly. Liz now lightly caressed Kelly's shoulder. Kelly unbuttoned all of the buttons on Liz's blouse and then looked right into Liz's eyes. "It's your move Kelly," said Liz. Kelly leaned in and kissed Liz softly on the lips. Their lips parted and their tongues danced. As they kissed passionately Kelly began to massage Liz's bra encased breasts. She kneaded them and as she did the older woman began to moan. This made Kelly feel good and she left Liz's lips and began to kiss the older woman's neck and throat. As she did her hand slipped under Liz's bra and Kelly felt the warm, yielding flesh of her friend. Kelly reached around and unhooked Liz's bra. Both blouse and bra came off quickly. Kelly lowered her head and began to nurse on the older woman's breasts. She sucked and nibbled on the nipples and it made her feel good to know that her loving care was making Liz's nipples get hard. It gave Kelly a feeling of power and of caring to know she made her friend feel so good. Kelly sat up and lowered Liz's shorts and panties and she looked at the beautiful puffy lips of the older woman's blonde pussy. Kelly spread Liz's legs and just looked at the pussy. She had never really looked at one before and she was struck with its beauty. Soft, downy blonde curls, surrounding the hidden treasure. A pinkish, coral color. She looked at the swollen outer lips standing up and giving access to the delicate inner lips. At the top of those lips the little nub, the seat of pleasure, the clit. Kelly observed and she could smell the scent of arousal. It was then that she realized that what she smelled earlier was not perfume, but it was Liz's arousal. She smiled and slowly lowered her head into the blonde nest. Her mouth parted and she kissed her lover's pussy. The first pussy she had ever tasted. She didn't know what to expect but it was sweeter, milder, and tastier than she thought it would be. Her tongue snaked out and she inserted in deeply into her friend. Her tongue swirled around and around and she heard Liz moan loudly. This only inspired Kelly to work her tongue even more. At first she didn't know what to do and then she realized that she should just do what she like done to her. She began to lick her friend's clit and could feel it become hard as a pebble. She looked up as she licked and saw Liz caressing her own breasts. As she licked Liz began to roll her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Kelly was struck with the fact that Liz felt comfortable enough to help with her own pleasure and Kelly hoped that one day she would feel that comfortable. He licking became more frantic as she pummeled the small nub of pleasure. Soon Liz's thighs began to tremble and tighten around Kelly's head. Her breathing became labored and she began to perspire. Kelly sucked the nub into her mouth and then licked it with the tip of her tongue until Liz cried out, "I'M CUMMMMMMMING!" Liz's whole body began to spasm as her hips bucked up and down. It was all Kelly could do to keep in contact with Liz's pussy, but she did. And she rode out the orgasm with Liz until its completion. When Liz finally settled down, Kelly crawled up and lay beside her. The two women hugged and kissed. Kelly looked into Liz's eyes and said, "Now I know what you were talking about. I do love you and want to make you happy." The two women hugged again and as they kissed they realized that their love had just scratched the surface. The Mentor Ch. 02 I suggest you read chapter 1 of the story first. *********** The scent of her arousal was overpowering. I knew she must have been highly turned-on from the ministrations Laura had been performing on her when I caught them in the bathroom, and it was clear that her catching me and now dominance of me (along with Laura) was taking her to a more heightened state. "Come on Bob, I told you to do something," Susan commanded in a stern voice. I knew I had no choice but to continue doing what she told me, as I could not risk what she could do to my career if she chose to expose me for spying on her and Laura in the women's room. I did as she had commanded, leaning forward as my hands were spread out on either side of her legs resting on the couch. This brought my face in contact with her panties, which as soon as I felt them I could tell were an expensive silk variety. The first touch also confirmed the state of her arousal, as they were absolutely soaked through. I tentatively stuck my tongue out, touching it to the sodden material. I drew my tongue up toward the top of her slit, then downward, and continued this pattern a few times. As I did this, I realized that her panties were pressed tightly against her labia, with apparently no pussy hair propping them up off of her crotch. Somehow I was not surprised to learn that Susan was clean shaven down there. "That's a good, boy, now a little bit harder," I heard Susan say as I continued. Something in her tone of voice or her choice of words hit me, and I began to pull out from underneath her skirt. But as soon as I removed my tongue from her panties, I heard her hiss, "Did I tell you to stop? Now get back there and do as you're told or there will be hell to pay, Bob. Just do everything I tell you and you'll get out of here with your reputation intact, I promise." Then she added in a lighter tone with a chuckle, "But no promises about your manhood and pride." Resigned to my fate, I returned to what I had been doing, now applying more pressure to her slit as I continued up and down. It was hard to believe it could happen, but her panties seemed to be getting even wetter as I continued, almost dripping with her secretions, causing the air under her skirt to become even more fetid. I felt her scoot her ass forward a bit, bringing her crotch into even stronger contact with my tongue and face. I felt her body relaxing also, as she lay back further into the couch and spread her legs a bit more, pushing my hands even wider on the outside of them. It was becoming difficult to maintain my balance, and my knees were getting quite sore. This made me think of what Laura had been doing to Susan in the stall just a few minutes ago, and I was thankful that at least I had carpeting underneath my knees. "That's better, my boy, you're doing a much better job now. You're obviously somewhat experienced at oral service, aren't you?" I heard her saying. I figured it was a rhetorical question, and saw no need to reply, so I simply continued rubbing my tongue up and down her panties. They were now so wet that as I did this they were getting pushed between her plump pussy lips, which I could easily feel on either side of my tongue. "Just divine, my Pet. I wish you could feel how lovely this is, Laura -- he's quite a good pussy licker I must say. I bet Sarah has you doing this a lot, doesn't she Bob?" she asked. Again, I didn't answer, a little worried that she was bring my wife into the discussion. But then I heard her say, "I asked you a question, but I recognize it's a little hard for you to answer given your current position. Tell you what -- just nod your head up and down a little if the answer is 'yes,' okay?" I moved my head up and down enough that I knew she could see the movement. I heard her reply, "I thought so -- I suspected from my e-mail conversations with Sarah that you'd be very good at this." Hearing this, I froze -- what the hell did she mean, "e-mail conversations with Sarah"? I knew she and Sarah had occasionally e-mailed with each other since they had met at a couple of academic conferences, but I never suspected that our sex life was a topic of their discussion. "Oh, are you a little shocked to hear that we e-mail about this, Bob? Well, you'd be surprised at the things that we girls like to chat about. But please do get back to work, I didn't tell you to stop." I simply sighed and continued licking her. I could only imagine what they had been chatting about. Sarah was a very sexual person, and we enjoyed a great sex life -- including lots of oral sex -- and I knew that she was certainly comfortable talking about sex. So I was not totally shocked to hear that she may -- if Susan was telling the truth -- have discussed our sex life with Susan via e-mail. "Laura, you simply can't imagine how nice this is. A distinguished professor like Bob here, on his knees, lapping away at my panty-covered pussy in a woman's room. Maybe we could arrange for you to experience it too," she said with a laugh. "But I'll tell you what -- for now, maybe I can just give you a better view of the proceedings." With that, I felt the material lifted off of my head as Susan pulled her skirt up and evidently must have bunched it up around her waist. The cool air felt good, as it had gotten quite hot and stuffy underneath the skirt. It also let some of the scent of her arousal out, so that I was not quite as overwhelmed by that heady aroma. But my sense of relief was replaced by a sense of shame as I realized that Laura now had a very clear view of my tongue running up and down Susan's panties. I heard Susan sigh as she leaned a bit further back into the couch. "Isn't he lovely, kneeling there attending to me, Laura?" "Yes, Professor Bascom," she replied. "Oh, come girl, you can do better than that. Tell me what you think of what you're watching?" There was no reply for a few seconds, as Laura was clearly contemplating what an appropriate response would be. I then heard her say with a slight giggle, "It does appear that he's quite good at what he's doing, and not only that, but he's enjoying it too. Look at his penis." As she said this, it brought my attention back to the fact that I still had quite an erection. I had long since passed the point of fear and shame, and was now just responding to the physical sensations as well as the psychological toll of being dominated by Susan. "Oh yes, I see what you mean," Susan laughed back. "He does seem to have quiet a raging hard-on, don't you Bob?" I nodded again to acknowledge that I heard what she said. "But now I want to feel you a little more directly, my sweet, so let's have you get that tongue around my panties and directly on my pussy, shall we?" Hearing this I began to lean back on my haunches and removed my hands from the sofa in order to use them to pull down her panties. But before I got too far I heard Susan's stern voice say, "Stop -- I didn't tell you to move did I?" I froze and then returned to the position I had been in, leaning back forward again. "You don't need to use your hands to do that, now do you Bob?" she said. "Use that dexterous tongue of yours to move my panties out of the way." By this point my tongue was actually getting quite tired, but I knew I had no choice. I moved it over to the side of her panties and stiffened it in order to push them aside. As wet as they were, it was still difficult to move them enough to provide me with freer access to her pussy lips. She recognized my difficulty, and scooted around a bit, which helped loosen up her panties from her body. With some continued effort, I was able to move them aside enough that her big lips both popped out from the side of the panties. "Ah, that's much better, my Pet. You should now be able to do a much better job. Let's see if you can help me cum." With the panties now at least partially out of the way I was able to get my tongue all over her labia. Confirming what I had suspected when I had first started, there was absolutely no pubic hair anywhere. She was perfectly smooth, without a trace of razor stubble. I gently sucked on each of her luscious lips, pulling each away from her crotch, running my tongue all over it. She was right -- I had had a lot of experience going down on Sarah, and truth was, it was one of my favorite activities. And I knew from the way Sarah responded and from what she told me that I was very good at it. I hoped that if I was able to satisfy Susan that this would be the end of the entire affair. It would be an awful memory, but I prayed that it was just a bit of fun for her and she'd never speak of it again. And I trusted that she had enough control over Laura and her future that Laura would never speak of it to anybody if Susan told her not to. So I concentrated on satisfying Susan, using all the tricks in my cunnilingus textbook to try to bring her to an orgasm. After sucking on her lips, I dove my tongue as deep as I could get into her pussy, touching the walls on either side. I then began to pay attention to her clit, lightly tonguing it, but was having difficulty because her panties kept getting in the way. Susan must have sensed my problem, because I felt her sit upright a bit and heard her say, "Come here Laura, sweetie, I need your help." I heard Laura rise from her chair, and as she did so, Susan said to me, "Okay, Bob, you can sit back for a second." I did as she told, relishing the opportunity to give my knees and tongue a break. As I pulled back and sat on my haunches, I could feel the cool air on my face, which was absolutely dripping from Susan's pussy juice. As I felt Laura approach us, Susan said, "Okay honey, help me out here, will you? First of all, take off Bob's blindfold for him." I felt Laura stand in front of me, between the two of us. As she did, I thought I could smell her arousal also. I couldn't be sure, but I swore it was a slightly different scent from what I had been experiencing with Susan. I didn't know if Laura was still in a state of shock, fear, or arousal, but given the olfactory evidence I thought I had encountered, I guessed it was the latter. Laura reached down and pulled the scarf off of my head without untying it. I was blinded for a second as my eyes adjusted to the light of the bathroom. As my pupils shrank again, I looked straight ahead into Susan's crotch. This provided me with the first opportunity to see clearly the target of all my attention. I could see that Susan's panties were a bright red color, though the wetness had turned the front of them almost maroon. They were askew, yanked partially to one side from my efforts, and I could see her plump pussy lips sticking out. As I had felt with my tongue, she was smooth and I contemplated for just a brief second how a woman could get herself that way. Sarah usually kept her pussy hair well trimmed, and on rare occasions had actually shaved completely, but there always seemed to be some stubble. I didn't know whether Susan waxed, or had laser treatments or what, but she was absolutely smooth with no trace of hair. I must have been fixated, staring at her, because Susan, "Enjoying the view, Bob?" I jerked my head up, meeting her eyes with a guilty look on my face. It reminded me of times when I had been talking to a young student and caught myself inadvertently staring at her breasts. As I now looked at her, I realized that at some point she must have unbuttoned her blouse, because the top three or four buttons were undone and the blouse was pushed aside enough to allow her two large, bra-encased breasts to be seen. The bra was a matching red to her panties and was trimmed with lace, and it displayed prominent nipples trying to poke through the silk material. The arousal that was so evident in her pussy was clearly echoed in her breasts. "I said, are you enjoying the view Professor Arnold?" she repeated. As she said this, she reached a hand inside one of the cups of her bra and began to finger her nipple, rolling it around. It responded by becoming even larger than it was before, pushing against the red silk of the bra. Not knowing how to respond to her question, I simply shrugged my shoulders. Susan laughed and said, "Oh, you don't have to answer that question. I know you well enough to know that you are enjoying it -- you're cock gives you away so transparently. You're just a pussy-loving little Pet, aren't you." At this all I could do was look downward, so as not to have to look at her eye to eye as she humiliated me. She laughed again and turned to Laura. "Will you pull these off of me, sweetie -- they have gotten so wet and they're just getting in the way now." I looked up again as I saw Laura move over and stand between us. She reached forward as Susan lifted her plump ass off of the sofa for a moment and moved her legs back together. As she had done with me, Laura put both hands on the sides of Susan's panties and began moving them down her thighs. They were so wet that they just rolled up as they came down Susan's legs and Laura gently pulled Susan's still-clad feet out from them. "You can go sit down now, sweetie, thank you," Susan instructed. As Laura went back to her chair, Susan's silk panties in one hand and her scarf in the other, Susan re-spread her legs and I could now see her pussy in all its glory. Perfectly smooth, with plump, bright pink lips. Moisture was glistening everywhere; she had obviously been so aroused that not even her panties and the action of my tongue had sopped it all up. As I said, I enjoyed performing oral sex on women, and I loved the look of a woman's sex, especially when it was aroused. I had not had sex with a lot of women before I met Sarah, but had had enough that I enjoyed the variety of the surprise that awaited you when you saw that part of a woman for the first time. Susan's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "What are you waiting for Bob, get back here. Let's get going, who knows when they're going to need this bathroom again," she laughed. Responding to her command, I again leaned forward on my knees and began to move my hands to either side of her legs to rest them on the couch. But before I could complete this, she said, "No, wait -- let's do it a little differently this time." I stopped and sat back again. As I did, Susan said, "Come on your knees a bit closer, Bob." I scooted forward, a difficult proposition given that my knees were very sore and my trousers and boxers were still around my ankles. "That's good. Now Laura, c'mon back here for a second." Laura did as she was told, and walked the few steps back to us. "Now, hon, take that lovely scarf of mine and tie Bob's hands behind his back for me." Now I was afraid this was going too far. I had awful thoughts of being tied up and left by the two of them in the bathroom, only to be found by somebody else from the conference. I opened my mouth in protest, but upon the first word out of my mouth, Susan interrupted me. She must have been reading my mind. "Now, now Bob, don't get too upset. I'm not going to do anything to put you in any danger. We just want to have a little fun with you, don't we Laura?" she said, turning to her graduate student. Laura just smiled and nodded. "I promise if you finish up what I ask you to do here nobody other than the three of us will ever know what transpired here." I again began to say something, but Susan quickly turned back to me and once again hissed, "Do as I say Bob, or you'll be very sorry." She had me, and I knew it. I couldn't risk what she would do to expose what had happened in here so I had no choice but to comply. "Okay, Laura, go ahead." With that instruction, Laura walked around behind me, as I resignedly put my wrists behind my back. She untied the knot that had held the scarf in place as a blindfold, placed one wrist over the other, and wrapped the scarf a few times around both of them. I then felt her tie a double knot, pulling it snug, not so much to cut off the circulation but clearly tight enough that I could not get them out. "Good, now do me one more favor and go get the camera again." I heard Laura walk to the counter and then back again and as she came into view I saw she had the camera in hand. "Thank you, my dear, but I think there's one more thing we need. Please bring my panties over here." Laura now walked back to the chair in which she had been sitting, and I realized that she had left the panties on the floor next to it. She bent over, giving me a nice view of her tight ass encased in her snug pants. Once again, my mind flashed back to what she had been doing to Susan in the toilet stall when I was spying on them. She brought the panties back to us and stood there waiting for her instructions. Susan looked at her, then back at me. She seemed to be thinking for a second, and then a smile crossed her face. "Put them around his neck, love," she said with a flourish. "Pardon me, Professor Bascom?" Laura replied. "You heard what I said, Laura. Put them around his neck." As Laura comprehended the command, a little smile crossed her face also. She took the panties, opening them up and stretching them enough to get one of the leg holes and then the waist over my head. She drew it down, and let them rest around my neck as if they were a prized necklace. I felt the wetness on my neck, and their odor wafted up to my nose once again. "Thank you hon. Okay Bob, let's try this again. Now lean forward and I want you to continue what you began before," Susan instructed. I did as I was told, though it was a bit awkward without the use of my hands to brace myself. As my head approached her crotch, the angle forced my face even more tightly then before against her pussy. I was greeted again by her scent and wetness, neither of which had abated much in the few moments since I had last been in this proximity to her. As I began once again to lick, this time unconstrained by her panties, I heard her say to Laura, "Get a picture of this, will you hon?" I knew enough not to protest, as it would do no good. I was resigned to the situation and knew I had no option. I had to trust that she would follow through on her word, that nobody else would ever find out about this. "Pick your head up a bit and turn to Laura for a second please Bob," Susan instructed. I tried to push back, but given the angle I was at, it was a difficult proposition. However, by pushing heavily with my thighs and ankles, I was able to get my head up enough to be able to rest it on Susan's thigh and turn it so that I could now see Laura. "Now smile so that Laura can take a nice picture of us, will you?" This was impossible -- there was no way I could force a smile in the situation. Susan must have realized this and taken pity on me, as she laughed and said to Laura, "Oh, just take the picture, Pet. Make sure you get both of our faces in the shot as well as Bob's pretty necklace and wrist bonds." As I looked at Laura she picked the camera up and pointed it at us. Once again, I saw the lens rotate in and out as she operated the zoom. My mind flashed for a second to what the picture would look like -- both of us naked from the waist down, me with my pants and boxers at my ankles, Susan with her suit skirt bunched up at her waist and her large breasts encased in her red silk bra. And all topped off by her sodden panties around my neck and her scarf on my wrists. All I could think about was how I'd gotten myself in this situation and what anybody -- including my colleagues, my students, and even Sarah -- would think if they viewed the picture! I blinked as the bright flash of the camera filled the room, and Susan said, "Thank you dear. Please come over and sit next to me. And you Bob, can get back to work." I rolled my head back off of her thigh, leaned in again to her crotch, and began licking. At this point, with all that had transpired, I wanted nothing other than to get her off and get this over with. Any initial titillation and pleasure I had received in being dominated by her was now being replaced by fear and trepidation of what could happen to me if this ever got out. The Mentor Ch. 02 I again sucked on her pussy lips, first one, then the other, and then began running my tongue over each. I could feel her body begin to respond again and I could hear her breathing getting heavy. I began to feel like I could see the end of this whole ordeal, and Susan confirmed this by saying in a soft voice, "Very good, Bob, you're doing just fine." I felt Susan's hands on the back of my head, pulling my face even tighter into her crotch. I turned my attention to her clit, lightly running my tongue around it. I knew that most women didn't like it too hard there at first, but preferred the pressure to be built up as they became more and more aroused. As I did this, I could feel her secretions begin running down my face as she got wetter and wetter. Once again, I heard Susan speak in a soft voice. "Laura, be a dear and help me out." I couldn't see what she was doing, but felt the top of her body lean forward a bit. She removed her hands from the back of my head and I thought perhaps I was going to get a brief reprieve from the intense pressure of my face against her pussy. As I continued my attention to her clit, I felt Laura moving a bit next to us on the couch. I heard the rustling of fabric and felt something fall next to me on the floor. I could not see what it was, but I then heard Susan say, "Ah, that's much better. Always nice to set the girls free," and she giggled like a school girl. I realized that she must have removed her hands from my head only to allow Laura to take her blouse and bra off and slip the shoulder straps off of her arms. "You know what to do now, don't you Pet?" Susan said. At first I didn't know if she was talking to me or to Laura, but then I heard Laura reply, "Yes, ma'am." "Would you like a little break, Bob? I bet your neck must be getting sore." I was happy to take a little break, so I nodded my head up and down a bit. "Okay, sit back again." Once again I used my thighs and ankles to push myself back on my haunches. As I did, I saw that what I had suspected Laura had done to Susan was true. Susan's blouse and bra were now totally removed, leaving her naked from the waist up, and Laura must also have pulled her skirt up over her head. Her breasts were just magnificent; they were quite large (I've learned not to try to guess a woman's cup size), befitting her overall voluptuous body. They were topped with areolas the size of half dollars, a mocha brown in color, and perfectly smooth, no bumps in them at all. In the center of each were the nipples that I had seen just a few moments ago trying to push their way through the silk bra. They were fully erect, or at least what I expected were fully erect, and they were just lovely, the kind that you couldn't wait to get your lips on. Susan lay back against the couch with what appeared to be a self-satisfying grin on her face. She was clearly a woman who knew she had a certain allure to men and women alike. She was by no means model beautiful, and was much more Rubenesque than most people's standard definition of the perfect female body. But for a woman of close to 50, she was just magnificent. Yes, she carried quite a few pounds, but her large frame held it well. Her skin was magnificent, with no folds, wrinkles, or stretch marks. It was an alabaster white and looked to be creamy smooth. And her body type was exactly that to which I was attracted. My admiration of this goddess was interrupted once again by her voice. "You just take a little breather for a moment Bob and watch." Turning to Laura, she said, "Okay, Pet, go ahead." Laura had obviously been in this position a number of times before. She turned slightly toward Susan, and bent her head down and gently fastened her lips upon Susan's right nipple. Susan's eyes closed and her head reclined on the back cushion of the couch as she enjoyed her graduate student's oral skills. I watched as Laura lifted her lips from the nipple and began using her tongue all over the top half of the breast. She licked as if it were a large ice cream cone, flattening her tongue to maximize its surface contact with Susan's breast. As I watched this unfold, I began to think less about my own predicament and focused more on the eroticism of the action. Here was a young, impressionable graduate student, whose career was almost entirely dependent upon her mentor, Professor Bascom, worshipping her large breast as if it were the most beautiful thing she could do. And Susan Bascom just lay there, enjoying all the attention, seemingly oblivious at that point to my voyeurism of what was unfolding. After licking all over the top of the breast, Laura took both her hands and gently lifted the orb away from Susan's body. This exposed its underside, and in a very tender fashion, Laura began licking the spot where the breast was attached to her body. She ran her tongue in a circular mode, all the way around the outside of the breast, slowly working her way inward toward the nipple. When she got to the nipple, she released the breast to flop back down to Susan's body, and began to lightly flick at the nipple. Much to my surprise, it grew even a bit more, becoming even larger than I had seen before. Susan began to groan, as she was clearly one of those women who had very sensitive nipples and whose arousal was connected to their stimulation. After flicking the nipple for a few seconds, Laura reattached her lips to it and began to suck on it, eliciting even more groans from Susan. After a few more moments of this, she shifted her body over Susan's in order to gain access to her left breast, where it began to receive the same attention that its partner had. As she did this, Susan reached out with her right hand and began to rub Laura's ass over her slacks, running her hand over each of the cheeks in wide circles. After a few minutes, as Laura continued sucking her left nipple, I saw her left hand reach underneath Laura's body, and then I heard the click of a snap being undone. Susan said quietly, "Now that's better," and I saw her right hand go underneath the loosened slacks to now rub the skin on her ass directly. She continued the same motion she had started on the outside of the pants, this time alternating the rubs with deep kneading of her ass cheeks. All of this activity must have had an effect on Laura, because I could see her nipples beginning to appear beneath her light sweater. Her breasts were small, especially in comparison to Susan's massive orbs, but there was no mistaking the way her body was reacting to the attention her ass was receiving from Susan. A few more minutes, and then Susan spoke again: "Lift up a second, my Pet." As Laura lifted her body slightly, Susan lifted her head up and opened her eyes, gazing into mine. Again, a smile came across her face as she looked at me, with my erect cock bobbing in my lap as I sat on my ankles. She took both her hands and used them to ease Laura's pants down her narrow hips, followed by her panties. Unlike Susan's, Laura's panties were a much more utilitarian black cotton. Like mine, the slacks and panties were left bunched at Laura's ankles. I looked at Laura's body -- she had a small ass, almost boyish, much different than the well-rounded backside of her mentor. Susan then grabbed the bottom of Laura's sweater and lifted it up over her arms and head. I was not surprised to see that she wore no bra, as she was so slight in build that she didn't appear to need one. It also explained why it was so easy to see her nipples through her sweater as she had become more aroused. "Okay, Pet, back to work." Laura bent down again and continued her attention to Susan's left nipple. Susan kept looking at me with that sly smile on her face. She reached down with her right hand and began once again to rub Laura's ass, this time unencumbered by her slacks. She rubbed lightly at first, and then began to gently knead the cheeks, one at a time. I thought I heard a moan escape Laura's mouth, which would not have surprised me given what was happening, but it was hard to tell since her mouth was still affixed to Susan's nipple. After alternating rubbing and kneading of Laura's ass, Susan began to lightly drag her finger over her crack. She dragged it up and down, from the top of the crack, where you could first see its beginning, all the way down toward her pussy but out of my view. The entire time, Susan smiled and never took her eyes off of mine, as I watched what she was doing to Laura. After about the fifth or sixth trip down Laura's crack with her finger, she began to increase the pressure and she appeared to be going deeper and deeper down the crack. Finally, on one trip, I heard Laura pick up her head from Susan's breast and gasp loudly. Susan then lifted her hand, showing me her finger, which was now quite wet with what must have been Laura's secretions. Without taking her eyes off of me, she took the finger and put it in her mouth, licking it clean, showing me her tongue as she did so. This had quite an effect on me, as my cock stood even further to attention. It was such an erotic site, this petite, young woman, draped across the voluptuous senior professor, who had just finished tasting the young student's wetness. I couldn't help but be aroused, and Susan didn't miss the reaction that she was having on me. "I thought you would enjoy this, Bob," she said with a smile. "Hard not to react to it, isn't it?" I didn't answer, but just gulped. But Susan pressed me this time: "I said, hard not to react, isn't it?" I now realized she wanted a response, so I said, "Yes, Professor Bascom, it is difficult not to react to what I'm seeing." "And why is that Bob? Tell me what about it you like." I wasn't sure what to say, so I figured I was so deep into this whole situation that I might as well tell the truth. "It's just very erotic, watching what you're doing to your student, and what she's doing to you." "More specific, Bob," she said sternly. I sighed and thought for a few seconds. "I'm enjoying see her sucking on your nipple and you touching her ass," I said in a soft voice. She looked at me questioningly, as if I had forgotten something. I realized immediately what I had forgotten, and added quickly, "Professor Bascom." "So, you like the attention I'm paying to her ass, then?" I could do nothing other than to answer truthfully, "Yes, ma'am." "Ah, I didn't realize that you had an anal fetish, Bob. That's a good thing to know about you -- I'll just have to file that away for future reference," she chuckled. I was about to ask what she meant by "future reference," but decided it would be better to not say a word at that point. "Well, you'll be pleased to know then that Laura likes a little anal attention every now and then, don't you, Pet?" Laura quietly responded, "Yes, ma'am." "Yes, ma'am, what, Laura?" Susan responded. Laura glanced over at me with a look of total humiliation on her face. I got the strong sense that she had been in this position before. She too knew she was trapped and had no out other than to be truthful. She turned back to look up at Susan and said, "I like having you pay attention to my ass, Professor Bascom." "Oh, please, Pet, I know you can do better than that." I saw a tear forming in Laura's eye as she said in a very quiet voice, just barely audible, "I like lying across you and letting you play with my ass, ma'am." The tear rolled down her cheek, followed by several more. Seeing the effect she was having on Laura, I decided that things had gone too far. It was one thing for Susan to take advantage of me; after all, she had caught me spying on her in the women's room. But the psychological and sexual dominance of this poor graduate student, whose career was dependent upon Susan, seemed unreasonably cruel. "Okay, Susan, that's enough -- leave her alone," I said in a firm voice. "What did you say, Bob?" she replied with a tone of incredulity, staring into my eyes. "I said leave her alone -- what you're doing to her is wrong, using your authority to take advantage of a student like that," I said, this time though in a more normal tone of voice. Susan stared back at me for a moment, and Laura too looked at me. I think this show of defiance surprised her as much as it surprised Susan. Susan said to me in a very calm voice, "So now you want to stand up and challenge me, Bob? Over this?" "Yes," I replied. "Well, that's very gallant of you, Professor Arnold, but the fact is that you're not in any situation to tell me what to do now, are you?" She stared at me even harder, like she were trying to bore a hole through my head. "Look at you -- you have your trousers and boxers down at your ankles, you're wearing my soaked panties around your neck, your wrists are bound behind your back. And I've got the photographic evidence that you were spying on us here in the bathroom." She let out a hearty laugh, the loudest one yet, so loud that I was afraid that somebody outside in the corridor would hear her. As she continued to chuckle, she said, "No, Bob, I don't think you're in any position to tell me what to do." I started to reply, "Look Susan, just let her. . . ." But before I could get the sentence out, her laughter stopped and she barked at me, "Shut up Bob, before I take those panties and stuff them into your mouth to shut you up." The ferocity of her response caught me by surprise. I knew she was right, that there was nothing I could do to stop her. Once again, I realized I was defeated, and I just stared back at her. She stared back at me, fully confident in her knowledge that she had won this battle too. After a few more moments, she took her eyes off of me, turned again to Laura, and said, "Now where were we, Pet, before Bob so rudely interrupted us?" Laura hesitated, unable to get the words out again admitting her submission to the dominant professor. Susan waited, seemingly until Laura would say again that she liked to have Susan play with her ass. But after a few more moments of silence, Susan must have taken pity on her. "Oh yes, I remember now, you were telling us how you liked me to play with your ass. Shall I show Professor Arnold what you like?" "If you wish, ma'am," Laura replied, no longer crying but still appearing quite humiliated. Susan chuckled again and said, "Oh yes, Laura, I do wish. Come lie across me, sweetie, so I have better access." Laura shifted her body up, laying it across Susan's thighs. With that Susan took her right hand and again ran it down Laura's crack. I could see from the angle of her wrist that she plunged a finger into her pussy again, and then pulled it back up. As before, she displayed Laura's wetness running down her finger. This time, though, instead of licking her finger, she ran it from the top of Laura's crack to her rosebud, and then quickly wormed it into Laura's ass. Once again, a gasp emanated from Laura's mouth, even louder than the last one. Susan began to gently plunge the finger in and out of Laura's ass. I could see what this was doing to Laura as she started breathing more heavily, her small chest rising up and down across Susan's body. Susan looked down at her, and with her left hand, she began stroking Laura's hair, saying to her in almost a whisper, "That's right, you take my finger up your ass like a good girl." The more Susan pushed her finger into her, the more aroused Laura seemed to get. She began to grind her pelvis against Susan's thighs, trying desperately to get some attention to her pussy. As Susan continued to piston her finger in and out of Laura's ass with one hand and stroke her hair with the other, she picked her head up to look at me, and with a smile, said, "You see Bob, I know what she likes. She just loves for me to play with her like this. She may appear not to want it, but I know the truth, don't I Pet?" Laura, still rubbing against Susan's thighs, managed to eke out a barely audible, "Yes, ma'am." "What is it you want, Pet?" "Please, Professor Bascom, I need to cum." "Oh, you'd like that, Pet, wouldn't you? First, you get on your knees and lick me in a toilet stall, then you lie here like the little slut that you are, just wiggling in my lap as I put my finger up your ass. And with Professor Arnold watching the whole thing. And you want to cum?" "Yes, please Mistress, I need badly to cum." That was the first time I had heard Laura utter the word "Mistress," and the realization that she had used that word gave me insight to their relationship. Clearly what had happened between them tonight was nothing new; I now realized their relationship of dominance and submission must have been going on for some time now. Susan removed her finger from Laura's ass with a "pop" and looked at me. "What do you think, Bob? Should I let my little Pet cum, or should I leave her all hot and bothered? Because, you know, she's not allowed to have an orgasm without my permission, so if I stop now she'll be left unsatisfied." I didn't want to play this game, putting the young woman's fate in my hands. I simply shrugged and said, "Do whatever you want, Susan -- you're going to do so anyway, so what difference does it make what I say?" Susan frowned a bit and said, "Oh Bob, I'm so disappointed. You know I value your professional opinion as a colleague. We're both successful professors -- well, truth be told, we both know that I've had a lot more success than you have -- so why wouldn't I want to have you weigh in on this?" Her throwing her achievements in my face stung. She must have known that there had always been a little professional jealousy of her on my part, and she was using that to add to my humiliation. But I refused to play along with this little game, and replied, "Sorry, Susan, but this isn't my area of expertise -- you're on your own here." She at first looked perturbed at my unwillingness to play along, and I momentarily fretted that I had made her even more cross with me. But then she simply laughed and turned back to Laura, telling her, "Don't you fret, my sweet Pet, I'll take care of you. Don't I always?" Laura looked up at her with a look of adoration in her eyes and said, "Yes, ma'am, you do." "That's right, I do, and I promise you I will. But not quite yet -- we've got something else to do first. Sit up here, hon." Laura lifted herself off of Susan's thighs, and sat next to her on the couch, her slacks and panties still at her ankles. Turning to me, she said, "Bob, get back here and continue where you left off," opening up her thighs once again. I sighed, and leaned forward to return myself to my previous position with my head pressed against her pussy. She was just as wet as she was before, even though it had been a while since I had been licking her. Her dominance of Laura clearly turned her on, and her body showed that. As I began licking, I heard her say to Laura, "Go over and untie his hands, Pet." I felt Laura lifting off the couch, then felt her fingers on my wrists as she undid the knot. I brought my hands back to my side and prepared to rest them once again on the couch to brace myself and provide more support, but Susan said, "No Bob, leave them by your side, you're going to need them. I did as she commanded, and I once again felt Laura sitting on the couch next to her. I was working on Susan's plump labia again, running my tongue over them, when I heard her say, "Spread your legs out honey." She must have complied, because Susan then said, "See Bob, I told you I'd take care of her. I'm sitting here fingering her sweet young pussy while you work on me." I of course couldn't see what she was doing, but could picture what it must have looked like, with Susan's finger or fingers pistoning out of Laura's pussy now, rather than her ass. It was an image that I liked envisioning, and could only wish that I was watching exactly what she was doing. The Mentor Ch. 02 "But there's one thing missing, isn't there Bob?" Susan said. I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, so I sort of grunted and continued licking up and down her slit. "That's right, what's missing is your orgasm, isn't it? I wouldn't want you to feel left out now, would I? I want to be fair -- with all this pussy licking you've been doing, which I know you love, plus your watching of me playing with my little Pet here, you must be badly in need of cumming yourself." I didn't want to admit it, but she was right. I had been aroused for quite some time, and even given the perverse circumstances in which I found myself, the release that an orgasm would bring would be very welcome. "So let me help you out, Bob. Sit up for a second." I pushed myself back once again, and could now see Laura sitting next to her with her legs splayed and Susan's middle three fingers on her right hand in Laura's pussy. She removed them, and leaned forward and grabbed hold of my erect cock. She rubbed her hand around it a couple of times, and I thought she was going to jerk me off like that. The idea of her doing that -- jerking me off like a young school boy -- while this graduate student watched was mortifying. But after what must have been an hour of arousal (I had lost track of the time at this point), my cock responded positively to her touch. But just as she was getting started, she stopped. She leaned back on the sofa again and placed her fingers back into Laura's pussy, squishing them around. She looked back at me and said with a smirk, "Okay, Bob get your face back in there and start jerking yourself." The realization of what she was telling me to do stung me like a slap across the face. "What," I shouted, "I can't do that." "Oh yes, Bob, you not only can but you will," she replied calmly. "Now get started." I stared at her, tempted to just get up, get my clothes on, and stomp out leaving Susan and her little plaything there on the couch. But as quickly as the idea came into my head, it exited. I knew I couldn't do that because of the fear of what she'd do in return. I just continued to stare at her, until she cocked the index finger of her left hand and began beckoning to me in a "come here" sign. Defeated, I knew that I had no choice, and I bent forward and resumed licking her. "That's right Bob, keep going, because you're going to stay right there where you are until I see you cum. But you better be good, because you need to make sure that both Laura and I cum first. If not, there's going to be hell to pay. So start spanking the ol' monkey, "she said with a laugh. Utterly shamed, I did what I was told by this domineering colleague. I resumed licking her, pushing my tongue deep into her pussy, as I began to run my hand up and down my shaft. Laura's pussy secretions had lubricated it enough that my hand ran easily up and down with little resistance. As I was doing this, I could hear the squishing of Laura's pussy as Susan must have been pistoning her fingers even more vigorously in and out. After a few more minutes of this I could feel that I was getting close to an orgasm. I sensed that Susan was close too, based on the heavy breathing I could feel and the fact that her thighs were clamping my head more and more strongly. I had no idea how close Laura was though, so I was trying my best to hold back on my own orgasm. I lightened my stroke, but Susan caught me, saying, "No, Bob, don't let up, keep touching yourself." I complied, and after a few more moments I heard Laura go, "Please, let me cum, let me cum, Mistress." Susan replied, "Go ahead, Pet, go ahead and cum for your Mistress," and not more than 5 seconds later I heard Laura scream out, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, gawwwwwwwd." Again, I was terrified that somebody in the corridor could hear us, but I took some solace in the knowledge that at least the door was locked. I knew I was close and could only hope that Susan was also. I turned my attention to her clit and began working it with a vengeance. By now I knew that she was aroused enough that I could lick it and suck it hard to bring her to an orgasm. And sure enough, after about a minute of this, I could feel her cumming. She clamped down hard on my head between her thighs, and her pussy spasmed as she let out an "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh." And then a gush of fluid soaked my face as she came and squirted all over me. I lightened up on her clit as she came down, but continued stroking myself as I knew that I too was past the point of no return. Just a few seconds later, I came myself, squirting cum all over the carpeting of the bathroom. Susan's thighs opened, releasing me finally from her crotch. I sat back, her pussy juice dripping off of my face, underneath her panties and on to my shirt, my cum pooled in front of me. I looked over at Laura, who was still lying back against the couch with her legs splayed out. She too had a small pool of liquid between her legs on the fabric of the couch. Susan opened her eyes and looked at me. "Very good, Professor Arnold. I'd give that performance a very high rating," she said with a smirk. "I think he's fulfilled his obligations, don't you, Pet?" she asked turning to Laura. Laura smiled slightly and said, "Yes, ma'am." I stared at Susan and said, "Is that it? Is your little game over now? I did everything I asked, so are you going to fulfill your end of the bargain and promise not to say or show anything to anybody?" Susan just looked back at me for a few seconds, seemingly thinking about something. "Yes, Bob, you did do everything I've asked. You can get up and get dressed. You too Laura." I got up and tried my best to put myself back together. I fixed my shirt and put my sport coat back on. After pulling my pants up, I remembered I had her damn panties around my neck. I pulled them up off my head and reached out to hand them to her as she was dropping her suit skirt back down her legs. She had already put her bra and blouse on. She looked at my hand and her panties, then looked me in the eyes. "Oh, Bob, you can keep those as a souvenir for now." "I don't want a souvenir of this, Susan," I said coldly back to her. "Oh yes you do," she replied with a smile, "you just don't know it yet." "What do you mean, 'yet'," I asked her. "Well, we still have a few days left in this conference, don't we. I don't need them now but may in a day or two, so I think I'll have you return them to me later. I'll let you know when I want to see you again to get them back." I was dumbfounded. I watched as she and Laura walked over to the vanity and began fixing their hair and make-up. "And Bob -- don't think about leaving early. I know you have a paper to give on the last day of the conference, so I'll expect you to be here the whole time." With that, the two of them grabbed their purses, walked to the door, unlocked it, and left. The Mentor Ch. 02 For her work on this installment as well as on Ch. 01, I am deeply indebted to my editor, sleeplessgurl. For taking the time from her own illustrious writing to vastly improve my own, and for making the whole process more enjoyable than it has any reasonable right to be, I am eternally grateful. * Walking the tree-lined streets from the campus to downtown, Eve thought about the new chapter that was about to start in her life. Professor Michaels was obviously interested in her. He went out of his way to compliment her writing and even to smile at her in class. Now, he'd invited her to his home, on a weekend, for their tutorial. His intent was clear. He wanted a place where they could meet in private. Where they wouldn't be interrupted. No, they were definitely about to embark on a relationship. The only question was what kind and how it would unfold. As she passed the boutiques and mom-and-pop stores on her way to Professor Michaels' house, among the window-shopping retirees and bustling students, Eve was feeling pretty good. He had picked her after all. Of all the women he could have, she was the one he wanted. She glanced at herself in the reflection of a store window, striding in her tight jeans and jacket, her blonde hair flowing. Her full breasts pressing against the thin fabric of her blouse. She was feeling really confident. She had worn her sexy underwear - the thong and push-up bra -- just in case. She didn't know how fast things would progress after all. Professor Michaels was married but everyone who read the blogs knew he and his wife were separated. Eve was ready for any eventuality. There was still some time before her 2pm meeting with Professor Michaels so she decided to grab a cup of coffee. She stopped in the Daily Grind, a café popular with students. It was packed, as usual. After she ordered, she heard a voice. "Hey Eve!" She looked around and saw David, a student from her creative writing class, waving to her. He was seated by himself in front of an open laptop. She went over to say hi. "Whatcha doin'?" David asked. He was quite handsome--a first-year grad student with a surfer boy mien. A former theater major and actor, he was making the transition to writing. "Just walking. You know...to clear the head." She decided not to tell him she was on her way to a rendezvous with their professor. "I know. I'm working on my story and it's driving me nuts. Michaels has me rewriting it top to bottom." "Me too," she smiled. "No fun." "Hey, after you get your coffee, do you want join me? We could trade sob stories." "Uh, sure. I only have a few minutes though. I...have an appointment." She got her latte and sat down at the small, round table. David leaned in, conspiratorially. "So, what do you think of Michaels?" If you only knew, David. If you only knew. "He's okay. Seems to know his stuff." "No kidding. It's kinda intimidating when you consider all the awards he's won. What was the last one? The National Book Award, or something?" "Yeah, he's not exactly lacking for street cred." She took a sip of her latte. She tried hard not to reveal anything about her feelings for Professor Michaels. "So, Eve, what did you do before this? Tell me about yourself." "Not much to tell. English major. Decided I wanted to be a writer. Heard about the writing program here and made the move." "And you're a junior right?" "Yep." "Very impressive. Making it in a graduate seminar." "I think I they wanted to skew the average age or something." David laughed. He had a nice laugh. Very warm and real. "You know, Eve, I wanted to tell you I really liked what you said in class. You know, about writing as a way of reaching people. It really resonated with me. I always thought that if I can both entertain people and make them think, or somehow see the world differently--then I'd achieve my goal as a writer. You know what I mean?" "I know exactly what you mean. That's how I feel. I think this headlong pursuit of money, or awards for that matter, is so misguided. Don't get me wrong. I want to support myself as a writer. I want to do well. But it can't only be about that. That'll leave you...I don't know...spiritually bankrupt." David raised his coffee cup in a toast. "Here's to being starving writers," he said with a smile. She smiled back, then glanced at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go." "Listen," said David. "Um, I was wondering...would you like to get together later? I'd like to bounce some ideas around about my story. Are you free tonight by any chance?" Eve gave him a look. "You're not asking me out are you?" "No, no," he smiled. "Just collegial. You know, one starving writer to another." She nodded. "Uh-huh." She thought a moment. Eve, a hot guy with brains wants to hang out with you. Why are you hesitating? "Sure. Why not? I live at Bowman residence. You want to meet there around seven?" "Great. I'll see you at seven." "OK. See you then." She gave him a smile and headed for the door. Jeez. Months of nothing, then two guys. When it rains it pours. Walking on Professor Michaels' street, she was struck by beauty of the stately, two-story homes. Each one with its distinctive architecture and carefully-maintained yard. This was a great neighborhood to have a home and a family. Eve thought about what a life with Professor Michaels might be like. A lot of professors end up with one of their students. What starts as infatuation, pure physical attraction, evolves into something deeper. It's been known to happen. Or maybe we'll be secret lovers. Teacher and student by day, passionate lovers by night. Indulging our sexual appetites. Taking sexual pleasure to new heights. I wonder if he'll come on to me as soon as I arrive? Or feel me out first. To make sure I feel the same way. I wonder what he's like in bed. I bet he's great. Thank God I wore my sexy underwear. She finally reached his address and ascended the steps to ring the doorbell. The door opened and Professor Michaels was standing in front of her--six feet tall with brown, wavy hair and dark, intelligent eyes. She flashed her green eyes back at him. "Hello." "Eve," Professor Michaels said, smiling. "Come in. Please." He was wearing jeans and a work shirt. He looked younger than he did on campus. More relaxed and casual. "You have a beautiful house," Eve said looking at the largely empty living room. "Well, I'm still moving in, as you can see. But it has good bone structure. Let me take your jacket. Can I offer you a drink of something?" Whoa. Moving fast. Better keep your head. "Water's fine." "Water it is. Make yourself at home." He smiled and receded to the kitchen. Standing in the middle of the living room, she took it all in: Arts and Crafts home, recently renovated, dark wood interior, molded ceilings and hardwood floors. Partially-opened boxes lined the wall next to the large fireplace. The only furniture was an antique easy chair with a reading lamp. So this is what the home of a prize-winning author is like. Not bad. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me here," he called from the kitchen. "I have to meet with my publisher on Monday and it's done a number on my schedule. Plus, the movers are coming today and I have to be here all day. Anyway, I appreciate it." He returned from the kitchen and handed a glass to Eve, keeping one for himself. He raised it to her. "Salut." She sipped her water and wondered where they exactly would meet. Maybe he'll suggest we talk in the bedroom. Sitting together on the bed? "I was thinking we could meet in the garden. That is, if it's not too chilly." "No, that sounds fine. It's nice out." "Good. Well, then, follow me." He led her down a hallway. They passed an empty dining room and a large kitchen. He stepped briefly into his office to pick up some papers. It was the only room that seemed furnished, with bookshelves and a large walnut desk with piles of papers stacked on it. They went out the back door and down a flight of wooden stairs to a large patio and garden. Tall trees lined the property. Two lawn chairs had been set up facing each other among the rose bushes. "My officina al fresco," he said wryly. "Have a seat." She sat down and pulled out a notepad and pen. The sun shone on them through a pair of pine trees. "So, Eve, tell me. How do you feel your rewrite went?" He always starts with what I think. I have to remember that. "Well, um, I worked hard to try and deepen Cyn's characterization. I worked on exploring some of her conflicts and desires. Some things that might not be as flattering to her character. I think it went pretty well." "I see," he answered. He was listening intently. "And last time we talked about finding ways to bring out her inner life, to dramatize her sub-conscious. Do you feel you were able to do that?" Oh God, he doesn't think I did that. How do I answer? "Well, I tried to show that Cyn was attracted to Kyle but that she wasn't able to act on it. And that frustrated her. Immensely." He nodded. Then he looked at the copy of her story he was holding. "I think," he said slowly, "you've done a pretty good job of starting to deepen Cyn's character. We do get a sense that's there's more going on beneath the surface. That there's a living, breathing character there. However, I feel you can take it further. For example, the night after Cyn rehearses the bedroom scene with Kyle, when she first sees him without his shirt on, you write: 'Images of him flooded her thoughts, like rogue waves hammering the shore of her psyche. She sought refuge in her solitude and her solitary pleasures.'" He lowered the paper and looked at her. "It's evocative writing to be sure, but what does it mean ultimately? Does it mean she takes long walks in the woods? Or swims laps at the neighborhood pool? Or reads Jane Austin by the fire. As a reader, I've virtually no idea. The ambiguity in this passage, the lack of specificity, inhibits our understanding of the character." Eve shifted in her seat. Damn it! He doesn't like it. I blew it. "You need to work on finding the telling detail that brings her character to life. The specifics that reveal the general. You know the old expression 'Don't tell. Show.' That needs to be your motto. You're telling in general terms, not showing in specific ones. That's what I meant by dramatizing the inner life of your characters. Do you understand?" She thought she did but she had no idea how she was going to do it. "I think so. I need to find the details, the specifics, that show character. Instead of just describing it generally. I need to find ways to dramatize it." "That's it. Exactly right." He smiled and gestured with the paper in his hand. "So, 'she sought refuge in her solitude and her solitary pleasures.' What was the genesis of that?" Eve thought about the inspiration for that part of the story. Actually, I wrote it after I got myself off in the middle of the night thinking about you, Professor. "Um, what do you mean?" she asked, vaguely. "Is that based on your own experience from...what was it...a few years ago?" Eve squirmed in her seat. No, Sir, it was from the last time I masturbated, actually. "Uh, no. It's...based on a more recent experience." "Fine. What I want you to do is this: I want you to take that particular sentence and blow it out. Expand on it. Give it dimension. Think about that more recent experience, what you were feeling at that time, and allow yourself to mine that material and bring it to Cyn's character." Oh, right. You want me to think about how I fantasized about you fucking me in your office. "OK," she said, unconvincingly. "What can you tell me about that experience?" "It's just an infatuation I have...had. A sort of...forbidden relationship. I thought it was applicable." "And did the other person know about your feelings?" Seeing how that other person is YOU, I don't think so. "No, he didn't. So I thought it was fitting." "Indeed. As a writer, that can be very useful. Use that experience in your writing, if you can. Play it over in your mind. Explore it." You mean, think about you making love to me? Over and over. A hundred different ways? "OK, I will." "Good." She returned his smile, bemused by the irony. Michaels furrowed his brow. "Eve, I want to ask you something. This hasn't anything to do with your writing per se. It's...outside our relationship as teacher and student." Oh God, here it comes. "I have a little proposition for you. I want you to know you're free to say no. It's a bit...irregular." I knew it. I knew he felt the same way. She felt her heart start to race and a warm wetness between her legs. She noticed the cool air was causing her nipples to stand out a bit. She sat up a little taller. "And if we chose to do this, I want to make it clear that it would be totally separate from our relationship as teacher and student. And it would in no way affect how I evaluate you or your writing." Say "yes". But not too quickly. Don't sound too eager. She cocked her head, listening thoughtfully. But she knew exactly what was coming. She arched her back, showing off her breasts. "Eve, I'd like to hire you to do some work for me here at the house." Eve stared at him blankly. "I'm sorry?" "I need someone to handle some logistical things here. Related to the move from New York. You know, be here to receive deliveries, help with setting up the house, that sort of thing. Would you be interested in that?" He wants me to work for him. That's it? "Uh...sure, why not?" "As you can see, I'm hopelessly behind and I can't seem to make much progress with all the commitments I've made to my publisher and to the school." Maybe this is just a pretense. Maybe he wants me here at the house. With him. "When would you need me to be here?" "At your convenience. When you're not in classes, of course. An occasional evening." Evenings? Maybe we could share a bottle of wine. I could help you relax. "I mainly need someone to take care of things when I'm not here." Eve's heart sank. You want me to be your lackey? Is that it? "What about Mrs. Michaels? Wouldn't she be better suited..." Eve had read about Professor Michaels' marriage online. His wife, Guinevere McIntosh, was a well-known fashion designer. Professor Michaels frowned. "My wife is living in London at the moment. I don't expect her to be around much anytime soon." There was a pregnant pause. Eve decided not to pursue it. ******** Walking back to campus, Eve fought back tears. She felt like such a fool thinking that a man like Professor Michaels could possibly take an interest in her. At least a romantic interest. She felt rejected and insignificant. What would it be like working for him? I could use the money, that's for sure. Maybe if he got to know me. Up close and personal. I might grow on him. We might even become close. And if he ever felt lonely... Oh, Eve, stop it! Get a grip. You've been down that road and look where it got you. She decided to return to her room and start work immediately on her latest assignment. If she couldn't be on his radar as a lover, she could get his recognition as a writer. What about that assignment? Take one sentence and "blow it out". How was she supposed to do that? On the surface, the sentence--"she sought refuge in her solitude and her solitary pleasures"--was about Cyn's unrequited relationship with Kyle. Beneath that, it had been inspired by what Eve had done after her first meeting with Professor Michaels. That night, as she lay in her bed, after she was certain her roommate was fast asleep, she had fantasized about him making love to her in his office. She had imagined him touching her, kissing her breasts, lifting her, pressing her against the wall, and fucking her. He was so attracted to her, both physically and intellectually, that he had to take her. Right then and there. Standing up. From behind, like an animal. He fucked her so passionately, and so completely, she experienced the greatest orgasm of her life. And while she imagined all this, Eve had touched herself, fingering her pussy until she came in a shuddering climax. But she couldn't write that. Obviously. Maybe she could change it to something more innocuous. Maybe "solitary pleasures" did mean reading a good book. Or taking a walk in the woods. She did, after all, enjoy those things. They did give her pleasure. Are you kidding me? That's so lame! It sounds like a bad Jane Austen imitation. Wait a minute, she thought. What if she wrote the truth? What if she wrote that Cyn felt so desperate about her situation with Kyle that she escaped by the only means available: sexual pleasure. She thought about Kyle -- gorgeous, unattainable Kyle -- and how much she wanted him, and she lay in her bed, late at night, and pleasured herself. He wants me to write about my experience. Well, that's exactly my experience. Let's see how he likes THAT. She thought about what that might be like—tapping into her own experience to describe Cyn's effort to escape, to ameliorate her pain. It would be risky, for sure. She'd be exposing herself in a profound way. But isn't that just what Professor Michaels had been nagging her to do? Take risks? Be brave? Besides, it might make him think of her differently. As a sensuous, sexually-liberated woman. Not just an errand girl. "Show, don't tell." It's perfect. What better way to dramatize Cyn's frustration? And to show Professor Michaels I can do it. She began to type. The words flowed from her, as if directly from her unconscious. After what seemed like a few minutes, but in fact was two hours, Eve read what she had typed. I'm not sure how good it is--but it'll sure get his attention. A knock at the door shook her from her reverie. She glanced at her watch. She'd totally lost track of time. It was already seven and that must be David. She jumped up and quickly checked herself in the mirror. She was barefoot, still in the jeans and blouse from earlier. She ran her hands through her long, wavy blond hair and shrugged. It is what it is. She opened the door to her room. David was standing with a brown grocery bag in his hand. His brown hair was tousled and he had an enigmatic smile on his face. "Hey. This still a good time?" "Sure," said Eve, opening the door so he could enter. "I was just writing and lost track. You know how it is." "Absolutely," he answered as he surveyed her room. "Roommate?" "Out for the night. Dinner and movie." David nodded. "Oh, I took the liberty of buying some munchies. And something to drink. In case we wanted to, you know, work on our stuff here." "Sure." He pulled a baguette out of the bag as well as a round of cheese, two apples and a bag of grapes. Lastly, he pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. "I'd been saving this for a special occasion but I thought 'what the heck?'" She liked the way he said things like 'what the heck'. "I even remembered the opener." "Always prepared. You must have been a boy scout," she said with a smile. "No, just a wino," he said with a grin. She laughed and suddenly felt glad David was with her. He had a way of putting her at ease. Plus, he made her laugh and she needed that right now. "So you want to eat first and then work or work first?" They decided to eat first, work, and then eat some more. He opened the wine, poured the glasses, and she sipped hers while he cut the bread, cheese and apples. She was impressed at how dexterous he was. The Mentor Ch. 02 They talked freely and easily, mostly of trivial things like classmates and current events. Eve drank a second glass and then a third, relishing the warmth it brought to her body. She wondered momentarily if she'd had too much, too quickly. They decided to put the food aside for now and get to work. Eve listened as David described his story, a coming-of-age tale of a boy's rebellion and self-discovery. She offered astute advice and David seemed to appreciate it. When it came time to discuss Eve's story, she was feeling a little tipsy from the wine. She was also unsure how to even talk about her story, and the assignment, given her choice to make it so explicitly sexual. Rather than try to make something up, she decided to come clean and tell the truth. She relayed the basic outline of the story: Cyn, a young dancer cast as Juliet falls for Romeo but lacks the courage to tell him. Instead, she loses him to another dancer, who happens to be her roommate. She rehearses passionate scenes with him day after day, longing to be with him, but cannot act on her feelings. "So, Professor Michaels has been on me about deepening Cyn's character. You know, make her three-dimensional, show her inner life. He thinks I'm timid as a writer. A prude." "Are you?" "No," she said, a little louder than she'd wanted. "I mean, maybe. But I don't want to be. Anyway, the assignment he gave me was to take one sentence from my story and use it as a starting point to expand on Eve's inner life." "What's the sentence?" "She sought refuge in solitude, and in solitary pleasures," she said with a flourish. David thought a moment. "Interesting. What's it mean?" Eve laughed. "Well, that's the point. Michaels says it's too ambiguous. That I need to dramatize it." David nodded. "Well, what did you mean when you wrote it?" Eve looked out the window. "That's the problem. It's hard to explain. Well, not hard to explain but ... hard for me to explain." "Well...just say it." Eve sighed. "It means she retreats to a fantasy life and imagines the two of them making love while she ... gets herself off." David stared into space. "Whoa." "See, I told you." "No, no. It's good. I mean, it's realistic. It's what might really happen." Eve turned to him. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I mean that's what I did...or that's what a lot of people do." David cocked his head slightly. Eve wondered if he'd noticed her slip. "So you started to ... expand on it?" "Yeah, this afternoon." "Can I read it?" Eve felt her face reddening. "Uh..." "Only if you're comfortable. I mean, I just want to help you." "I don't have much. I mean, I wrote something but it's not finished. I haven't even printed it out yet." "So print it out." "It's kind of...personal." "Listen, Eve, you can trust me. I'm nothing if not discreet." She looked at him intently. "You promise not to breathe a word?" "I promise. Really." He looked at her sincerely. "OK," she said, finally. "I'll read it to you." She got up from the bed and went to her desk, sitting on a stool in front of her laptop. She wiggled her index finger on the trackpad and the screen came to life. She read the passage to him. Word for word. From beginning to end. He listened without a sound. Cyn lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling. She replayed the rehearsal over and over in her mind. The director was urging her to let go. "This scene is all about passion!" he'd shouted. She was standing on the stage, covered only in a sheet; Kyle stood next to her, bare-chested, dressed only in tights. Exasperated, the director ended the rehearsal for the night and left the two dancers on their own. Kyle turned to her, sympathetically. "Don't worry," he said softly. "We'll just keep practicing until we work it out." Then, they were alone, bathed in a single spotlight. "If this scene is all about passion," Kyle said simply, "then let's find the passion." He smiled at her and looked so beautiful, illuminated in the light. She felt heat building deep inside her body. He moved behind her. She felt his hands touching her arms, her face. A jolt of electricity coursed through her body. She leaned back, against his hard chest. He held her, touching her. She felt him pressing against her back. She felt his growing hardness. She reached back with one hand, the other still grasping the sheet, and ran her fingers over his muscled thighs. She let her hand glide to his buttocks, so firm and tight. She pulled him to her, feeling his hardness pressing through the thin fabric of his tights. She dropped the sheet, revealing her bare breasts. His fingers grazed her silky skin until they found her breasts. Her hands reached up to caress his face. Her breasts raised up, the nipples reaching out in the cool air. He held her breasts from behind, caressing them. He rubbed her nipples, causing them to stand up and harden. He reached down, to her stomach, and lower still, to find the wet folds between her legs. His fingers pressed into her. As she felt his fingers inside her, she surrendered to the advancing ecstasy. Such were the images that flashed through Cyn's mind, even as her own fingers explored the warm wetness between her legs. When she'd finished, she looked up at him. He was staring into space, thinking. "So, that's it. That's what I wrote." "I think it's good," he said quietly. "Really good." "Thanks." She turned back to face the screen. "Except...Michaels is on me about using specifics, details that reveal character. This is so...general. Generic. I can hear his voice saying 'you're hiding, Eve.'" "Are you?" "I don't know. Maybe. A little. I honestly don't know how to be specific about this. I just don't have the words. I'm supposed to 'show, not tell' but I'm at a loss about how to do it." They sat in silence for a moment. Then, David spoke up. "Have you heard of sense memory?" "Sense memory," Eve replied. "What's that?" "You know I was an actor, right? Well there's this thing called 'sense memory.' It's from Stanislavsky." "OK." "It's when an actor accesses memories in order to recreate the feelings they're trying to perform on stage. Let's say you have a scene where you need to be sad. You might remember a funeral you attended. The feeling of the dirt in your hands. The smell of lilies. The sound of people crying." "Like, method acting?" "Yeah, it's used in method acting. It's a technique. A skill. I used it as an actor and now I use it as a writer." "And it works?" "It does for me. I find I write more persuasively about an experience if I can actually feel what the character is feeling." Eve thought about this for a moment. "So, in my case, I just need to put myself in a position to feel what she's feeling and then I can write about it. Well, I did and it didn't work." "What do you mean?" "You know. I did what Cyn did and still I can't seem to remember it, or describe it. I don't know. I just suck." She was getting genuinely upset. "No, you don't suck. Like anything it takes practice. Look, I have an idea. I think it'll help you." "Help me? She looked at him sideways, onto him. "Listen, David, I like you but I hardly even know you." He looked at her with that sincere look again. "I'm not saying we make love, I'm talking about helping you as a writer." "What do you have in mind," she asked skeptically. "OK. When an actor can't access the memory, can't make it real and bring it into the performance, you're supposed to bring that experience into the moment, so you can feel it right then and there." "During the performance?" "No, during the rehearsal process. You re-create the memory you want to access. In rehearsal." "I still don't get it. How would I do that?" He looked at her with eyebrows raised. "I can show you," he said quietly. "Do you want me to?" She looked at him a moment. She thought about the disappointment in Professor Michaels' face as she once again failed to live up to his expectations. She thought about how blocked she felt. "Sure. Why not." "OK. Now, if you change your mind at any point, just tell me." He stood up and moved behind her, kneeling. "Now, face your computer and open a new document. Good. Now, you're going to write whatever it is you're feeling. Whatever it is. Just type it." Eve put her fingers on the keyboard. "Now, don't try and think too much. Just relax and concentrate on what you're feeling in the moment. Go ahead." Eve shrugged and started to type. Anticipation. Nervous. Bit scared. "OK, good. Now try and relax. I'm just going to help you feel the things you want to describe. Just close your eyes and write what you feel. OK?" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "OK." David moved in close behind her. Gently, he placed his two hands on her shoulders and slowly ran them down her arms. Eve typed. Waiting. Breathless. Tingly. Goosebumps. He ran his hands along her thighs, stroking slowly towards her knees. He was so close, she could feel his chest barely touching her back, feel his breath on her neck. He lifted his hands so they hovered a centimeter from her breasts. Breath on my neck. Smell of cologne. Face feels warm. Slowly, gently, he let the tips of his fingers brush over her breasts. Eve flinched, opening her eyes. "Shhhh. Just concentrate. I'm only trying to help you," he whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes again. He brushed his hands over her breasts, making circles with his fingers. Surprise. Electricity. Tingly heat. Heart beating fast. He ran his index finger along the opening of her blouse, gently grazing her skin. Laser touch. Searing. Exciting. Anticipation. He reached around with both arms and began to unfasten the buttons of her blouse. He pulled her blouse open, revealing her large breasts supported by a lacy pushup bra. He slowly ran his fingers along the edges of the cup, touching her full, luscious breasts. He let the fingertips slide beneath the sheer fabric. Tingly. Fluttery pleasure. Heart pounding. Hungry. Wanting more. With both hands, he slowly pulled the straps of her bra over her shoulders, pulling her blouse off with it. He reached back, unfastening it, and pulled it off her arms. Her breasts were high-sitting, gorgeous melons, with pink, upturned nipples. Cool. Breeze on my skin. Shivery. Yet hot. Inside. He lightly ran his fingers over her breasts, sliding them along the tender undersides. Ever so lightly, he slid them over her nipples. She gasped and licked her lips. Thrilling. Sparks. Goosebumps. Breathless. Electricity. He was pressed up against her back, his arms embracing her from behind. He started to massage her breasts with his hands, roll the nipples in his palms. She let out a little moan. Jolts of pleasure. Electrifying. Wetness. Pulsing. Between my legs. He brushed his fingers back and forth over her nipples, causing them to stand up. He took them between his thumb and index finger, giving each a little tweak. Eve moaned and squirmed in her chair. She leaned back against his chest, giving herself over to the sensation. "Keep writing. Keep feeling and writing." Nipples so sensitive. Like a fire burning. Intoxicating. So wet now. Breathless. He slid one hand down over her stomach to the button which fastened her jeans. "Is this okay?" he whispered, his mouth inches from her ear. Eve nodded her head vigorously, biting her lip. He unsnapped the button and the zipper opened halfway. "Keep writing," he whispered. He slowly ran his hand down the front, sliding his fingers under her thong. She spread her legs ever so slightly. Pulse throbbing. Between my legs. Holding breath. Waiting. Wanting....... His fingers combed through the tuft of hair until they found the crease below. Her mouth was open, her head tilted back. He let his middle finger slide between her lips. She was wet beyond words. She somehow found the presence of mind to continue typing. Mmmmm...Yes. Trembling. Breathtaking. Feels amazing. Deeper! He pushed his long finger all the way inside her eliciting another moan. Then, he slowly pulled it out. He caressed her labial lips, massaging them lightly, and plunged into her again. She arched her back and cried out. Sparks. Electricity. Through my body. Throbbing deep inside. Legs on fire. Again, he pulled his finger out and led it on its circuitous route around her pussy. This time, he pushed two fingers inside her. His other hand squeezed her breast. She trembled, and moaned again. Blood pounding. Panting. Hunger. Longing to be filled. Want fingers inside me. Touching my clit. He ran his fingers the length of her pussy and let them slide over her clit. He pulled back the hood and let the pad of his finger tip brush against the soft flesh. She gasped and her body shuddered. Yes! There. Right there. Heat. Tingling. Pleasure growing. Craving. More. He studied her face, watching her every reaction. He rubbed her clit lightly, like a marble rolling in oil. He caressed the length of her pussy and then sunk his fingers deep in her hole. She rocked her hips involuntarily, her body heaving. Sooooooooo good. So hot. Throbbing. Heart pounding. More. Up and down, in and out his fingers expertly toyed with her pussy. Each time he played with her clit and each time she moaned aloud. Her nipples stood out like small grapes between his fingers. Feel it coming. Burning heat. Electric pulses. Tidal wave. Going to come now. Rub my clit. Rub it! He did as he was told. He reached around her with both arms, one hand spreading her pussy, the other finding her now engorged clit. He began rubbing it fast, side to side, like a vibrator. She was gasping, her breasts were heaving, her nipples big and hard. Yes. Fire. Frenzy. Pulsing. Overwhelming. More! She spread her legs wider and lifted her pelvis. She needed him to finish her off. He slid two fingers deep into her while he continued rubbing her clit. Yessssssssssss. Commmmmmmmmmming. Sooooooooo gooooooooooooooood Her head was tilted back, her mouth open. Her body shuddered and twitched. He felt her pussy contracting, impossibly wet. Still, he vibrated her clit. Still, she moaned with pleasure. The typing had long stopped. She was lost in the throes of her complete, unbridled pleasure. As she came down from her orgasm, he held her with one hand across her breasts, while the other caressed her face. "Keep writing," he whispered. Her fingers found the keyboard. He brought his glistening fingers to her nose and let her breathe in the scent. Dizzy. Still throbbing. Pungent. So sexy He brought his index finger to her mouth, running it over her full, bee-stung lips. Gently, he teased his finger between her lips. She slowly parted them and took his digit into her mouth, caressing it with her tongue. Salty sweetness. Taste of pleasure. He removed his finger from her mouth, and unwrapped his arm from around her chest. She opened her eyes, turning towards him. "That was amazing! I felt it and put it into words. It was incredible." "You were incredible. You were so...brave." She thought about Professor Michael's admonition that writers must be, above all, brave. She smiled. "Thank you. Thank you so much." She looked back at the document of her orgasm. "This is going to make my story so vivid. So real." She turned back to him. "How am I ever going to make it up to you?" David looked down, and actually seemed to blush. "No problem." She glanced down and could clearly see the head of his cock stretching above the waist of his jeans. He had a raging hard on. "David." "Yes," he said, a bit breathless. "David, I want to return the favor. Let's switch places." "Really?" "Yes," she said, urgently. "I want YOU to write now." She stood up and turned the stool to him. "C'mon. You know you want to." David took a seat and turned to face the computer. Eve knelt beside him. "That's it. Now I want you to write whatever it is you're feeling. Go ahead." David put his fingers on the keyboard. He was already in a heightened state of arousal. He began clicking the keys. So hard. So tight. Excited. She reached down and unfastened the button of his jeans. She could see half his cock rising out of his briefs. "Here, help me get these off." She unzipped his pants and, with his help, pulled them over his hips. The briefs followed, revealing a long, flesh-colored cock with a bulbous, circumcised head. She pulled off his t-shirt. "You're not typing..." she said in a sing-song voice. She positioned herself behind him. Her hard nipples lightly brushed against his back. His whole body shook. He began to type again. So hot. Electricity. Growing. Reaching around him, she glided her hands down his arms, feeling the contours of his muscles. Then, with a feather touch, gently grazed the tops of his thighs down to his knees. Then, her fingers found their way up his inner thighs. Straight towards his cock. Getting bigger. Blood rushing. Can't wait. She ran her fingers all around his crotch, letting the tips barely graze his skin, teasing him. She felt the tuft of hair below his navel and tickled his inner thighs. Tingling. Tickling. Anticipation. Sweet agony. Finally, she let her fingers graze the silky soft skin of his cock, laying against his thigh. He gasped and his body twitched. Shuddering. So good. Throbbing. Heart pounding. She traced the length of his long shaft, then felt the contours of the head. Her fingers traced the rim and slid over the velvety tip. Pulsating. Thrilling. Wanting. Needing. Her hand gently grasped his cock and raised it upwards. It was long, and lengthening by the minute. She began to slowly stroke it, using two hands. Yes. Feed the hunger. Each stroke like heaven. She was pulling the skin downward, making the head surge up and swell. She used her thumb and forefinger to make an "O" and slid it over the tip and head. He moaned loudly. So good. Like sliding inside you. More. Eve did it again, eliciting another moan. Then again. He was squirming on the stool now. She began to stroke him hand over hand, so that the head slid through her hands, again and again. Ohhhhhhhhhhh nothing like it. So close... She slowed her stroking and tickled the tender underside of the tip. He shuddered. A tiny flood of pre-cum oozed out of the tip. With her finger, she rubbed the creamy fluid around the tip and over the head. His body shook with pleasure. My god . So goooooood. Love itttttttttt She raised her finger to his lips, just as he had done. Slowly his lips parted. She inserted her cum-covered fingertip into his mouth. He licked it, tasting himself. Warm. Sweet. Creamy. She took her finger and brought it to her own mouth, just inches from his ear, and audibly sucked it clean with a smack. His cock swelled in her hand. So hot. "Mmmmm...that tastes too good," she whispered. "I need some more of that." She swiveled him on the stool and was face to face with the longest, hardest erection she'd seen in a long time. She held it upright and stared into his dark brown eyes. Keeping her gaze trained on his, she slowly lowered her mouth on to the tip. Her lips parted and she took the swollen head into her mouth. Her tongue swept over the tip and around the head, tasting him, and sending shivers through his body. She maintained eye contact and slowly took him deeper into her mouth, and out again. Her tongue worked feverishly, swirling over the head and rim, causing his body to writhe and shudder. She took him deep into her throat, sliding her full lips over his hard shaft. The Mentor Ch. 02 "Ohhhhhh," he moaned, as he arched his back. She could tell he was on the verge of coming. He lifted her face gently with his hands. She released his cock with a smack of her lips. "Too good," he moaned. "Don't want to come. Not yet." He stood up from his stool and helped her up by her hands. He pulled her against his chest, her hard nipples pressing against him. She looked up into his eyes, her face flushed, her lips swollen. He kissed her deeply, his tongue capturing hers. She responded, her tongue dancing around his. Suddenly, he pulled away from the kiss, and steered her to face the desk, kicking the stool aside. "Your turn," he said, breathlessly. "Type!" Eve turned to the screen and bent over, placing her fingers on the keyboard. He stood behind her and looked at her perfect ass highlighted by the skimpy thong. He pulled it slowly down. Throbbing. Tingling. Anticipation. He took her hips in his hands and slowly spread her legs with his foot. He took his cock in one hand and rubbed the tip against her swollen, wet pussy. Want you in me. From behind. So bad. She arched her back, inviting him to sink his cock into her. He obliged, pushing his throbbing head so it popped inside her. She gasped. Yes. So hot. So big. Want all of it. Now. He rocked his hips, pressing his cock into her slowly, in and out. She moaned and moved her hips in unison. So full. Explosive heat. So .gooood. So goooooood He slid his cock into her, deeper still, and out again. She moaned again, arching her back, wanting it all. He thrust himself all the way into her and rotated his hips. She groaned, loudly now. Yes! So deep The typing stopped. He pulled all the way out, until just the tip filled her, and then thrust himself all the way back in. She cried out. Once again, he pumped her. And once again she cried out. He reached around her with one hand and found her full breasts, gripping them. His other hand found the top of her pussy, and began to rub her clit. "Ohhhhh," she moaned, her legs beginning to crumple. He took her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She got on her hands and knees, her legs spread, her pussy wet and swollen. She looked back at him with fiery green eyes. "I want you to put your big cock right here," she whispered, fingering her dripping wet pussy. "I want you to fuck me from behind." He moved in on her with a sudden fury, taking her from behind, his hands all over her body, his skin against her skin. He guided his cock to her pussy and pressed it against her. Her mouth opened in anticipation. He shoved his cock into her and she cried out. Again and again, he slid his long, hard cock deep into her pussy. She could feel him pounding her cervix with every thrust. "Oh, David, that's so good," she whimpered. "No one's ever gone this deep. I want you to come. Come in me." He slammed his pelvis into her, rapidly and with abandon. Her hair was hanging down, her head flailing from side to side. He gripped her by the hips and used his entire body to thrust into her, again and again. "I'm gonna come," he moaned, pressing himself deep into her velvety wetness. "I want you to," she cried. "Come, now. Come with me." Her body was shuddering, her pussy convulsing, contracting around him. Seconds later, he felt his orgasm build from some deep place in his being, gather in his loins, and explode out of his surging cock. She felt him spraying her insides with his creamy load as she, too, surrendered to her own shattering climax. Eventually, his thrusts slowed and stopped and he leaned against her back until they both collapsed on the bed. Their bodies where drenched with sweat. After laying together for the longest time, she turned toward him and looked at him with a wry expression. "I think I like this whole sense memory thing." He laughed. "Yeah. I think we got a lot of research done." "I'm just not sure how I'm going to work all of this into my story." David looked at her and smiled. "Well, if you feel you need to do more homework to figure it out..." She gave him a sly look. "...then you'll be available. Thanks. I'll definitely keep that in mind. In the meantime, I'd like to keep this ... research ... between us. OK?" "Of course. We wouldn't want to give away our trade secrets." She smiled, reassured. She heaved a big sigh. "Is there anything left to eat? I'm starved." The Mentor Ch. 03 The sun shone through Liz's window and she began to stir around 6: 30 a.m. She slowly climbed out of bed and padded into the adjoining bathroom. She sat on the toilet and let out her early morning amber stream. When finished she patted herself dry and walked naked past the mirror in the bathroom She paused for a moment to look at herself. At fifty-one she wasn't bad. Her blonde hair hid the few strands of silver. Her skin was tanned yet still supple and smooth. Her 36 c breasts were still in good shape even though they had begun to sag because of age and gravity. Her ass was rounded and smooth and just below the slight roundness of her tummy was her curly, blonde haired pussy. Not bad for an old broad she thought. Still hot enough to keep her husband happy and to attract a new lady every now and then. She padded off naked into the kitchen and made coffee. When it was ready she took a cup back to bed with her and climbed back under the covers. She thought about yesterday and her lovemaking session with Kelly. While Kelly totally enjoyed the experience and told Liz that she loved her, Liz wondered if a night of thought might change Kelly's heart and mind. Perhaps she would have feelings of remorse and betrayal toward her husband. Liz thought about calling and inviting her over, but thought she would call later that day just to day hello. Liz smile to herself and hoped that this would be the beginning of a long and lusty relationship. About fifteen minutes away Kelly had given the kids breakfast and she too climbed back in bed with a cup of coffee. She lounged in her shorty pj's and thought of the events of yesterday. Kelly had red hair down past her neck with milky white skin. Her 34 b breasts were firm and the nipples were a translucent pink. Her ass was nicely rounded and her tummy was just slightly rounded after the birth of her children. Her pussy was neatly groomed but still showed that she was a natural red-head. As she sipped her coffee she thought about yesterday. If you had asked her how she felt about woman to woman love at this time yesterday morning she would have quote you chapter and verse as to why it was wrong and unnatural. But after yesterday she wasn't so sure. It was s soft and tender kind of love, nothing she had ever experienced with her husband. She thoroughly enjoyed making love with her husband but she did think that once in while a soft, tender kind of lovemaking was just what she needed. She had never even given it a thought until Liz. There she was one moment enjoying her older friend's company and the next moment she was in bed, making love to her. As she contemplated she was glad that it was someone of Liz's maturity and seasoning that had introduced her to female to female sex. Kelly had always looked up to mature women. They were confident, sure of themselves and knew what they wanted. Mature women weren't hung up on hair styles and make up, but on life and enjoying it. She was thankful that it was her mature friend Liz who was there for her. Yet Kelly wasn't sure that she would ever have sex with Liz or any other woman again. Even as she thought about the not having sex again, she realized that her pj bottoms were slightly moist. She knew she enjoyed it, no she loved it, but was she prepared to continue. She thought not. She decided that when Liz called she would tell her they could be friends, but never again lovers. She had made up her mind. Liz finished her coffee and went into the bathroom and filled the tub. She enjoyed luxuriating in a nice bath to begin the day. As she lay in the warm, fragrant water she thought about her own first time with another woman. She remembered that while she enjoyed it she had decided that she would never again have sex with another woman. Yet here she was nearly twenty-five years and three women later with another female lover. She knew what Kelly would be going through, so she decided that she would let the younger woman simmer in her own juices so to speak. By midmorning, the kids were gone to summer camp and Kelly was now alone. She waited for Liz to call. She had been working on her speech, but there had been no call from Liz, no opportunity to give her the well rehearsed speech. By mid afternoon Kelly was wondering if something was wrong. Why hadn't Liz called? Maybe Liz had decided that she did not want to continue the affair with Kelly. Kelly wondered if she hadn't done a very good job in satisfying Liz. She glanced at the calendar and realized that Tom would be on the road for five more days. The idea of five more nights alone in bed was not appealing to her. The image of her between Liz's legs ran through her mind and she felt a slight tingle in her nipples. When the kids came home Kelly really began to worry about the whole situation. What was wrong with Liz she wondered? Damn it, why hadn't she called? Was Liz only interested in a one night stand? She was becoming angrier as time went on. She wondered if right now Liz was seducing someone else. Wondered if Liz had her head between some other young woman's legs. She fed the kids and put them to bed. She sat alone watching TV but inside she was fuming and missing Liz. How could she do this to me? Get me all excited and then not call. Doesn't she realize that I miss her? At eleven Kelly was getting ready for bed when the phone rang. Expecting Tom she was surprised when she heard Liz's voice on the other end. Kelly was irritated but she quickly dismissed the idea of getting caddy. The two women talked for a while an then Liz said good night and hung up. She hadn't even mentioned yesterday. Kelly sat and tears rolled down her cheeks. How could she be rejected like that? Didn't Liz realize how much Kelly loved her? Kelly took a hot shower and climbed into bed. She tossed and turned for a quite a while, unable to sleep. She knew what she needed and she wished Tom were there for some loving. Slowly her right hand made it's way between her legs. She slowly began to slide her finger into the folds of her pussy. She dipped her finger inside and was surprised to find just how damp she was. She slid her finger back out and began to circle her clit with the moistened finger. As she pleasured herself her thoughts drifted off into erotic fantasy but she did not think of Tom, rather her thoughts turned to Liz. She pictured herself making out with Liz. She was fighting, not wanting to give in but she could see herself parting her legs and allowing Liz to do whatever she wanted to her. She fought the feelings and then suddenly she felt the orgasm wash over her. She was bathed in perspiration and just lay there. She was trying to figure out what she wanted to do when she slowly drifted off to sleep. Liz was thumbing through a magazine when she realized there her husband would not be home for five more days. She knew that this would give her ample opportunity to make Kelly her regular lover but she knew that she would not rush the girl, but would make her beg for it when the time was right. Liz smiled to herself, turned off the light and fell asleep. The Mentor Ch. 03 I suggest you read the earlier chapters of this story first ************* I woke up the next morning after a fitful night of sleep. I at least had remembered to set the alarm, which was an amazing accomplishment considering the mental state I was in. I had a paper to give that day, so couldn't just sleep in and sleep off what had happened. I dragged my body out of bed and headed for the shower. The hotel room had one of those large bathrooms with both a tub and a separate stall shower, and I opted for the latter. Even though I had just taken a shower the night before, I decided that I needed another to jumpstart my day. After the water heated up, I hopped in and let the hot jets stream all over my body. As I did this, the events of the last evening began running through my head all over again. I shook my head as my encounter with Professor Susan Bascom came back to my consciousness. ************* After Susan and her graduate student, Laura, left the bathroom, I just stood there for a minute or two stunned and unable to move. I couldn't believe I had managed to get myself in that position, of having been caught spying on them in the women's room of the hotel. Susan proceeded to blackmail me into servicing her sexually right there in the bathroom, threatening to expose me if I didn't do what she had said. Finally, after a minute or two, I walked over to the sinks and cleaned myself up as best I could. I splashed cold water on my face and front of my hair, and wiped it off with a paper towel. I looked in the mirror and realized I still looked ragged, but decided I was presentable enough that I could pass if I managed to bump into anybody after I left the bathroom. I was planning on going right up to my room but wanted to be prepared just in case. I walked over to the door and when I got there I realized that it was now unlocked, Susan and Laura having exited a couple of minutes earlier. I opened the door just a crack to peek out and make sure nobody was in the small corridor leading to the bathrooms. I didn't see anybody, so I quickly opened the door wide enough to pop out. The door to the men's room was right nearby, so I knew I was now safe once the door to the women's room closed behind me. As I started walking back toward the lobby of the hotel, it dawned on me that the "Out of Service" sign that had been placed in front of the bathroom by the hotel employee was no longer there. "Damn," I muttered to myself. I realized that Susan must have moved it when she and Laura left the bathroom, leaving me exposed to anybody who could have walked in. I just shook my head and continued toward the elevators. As I approached the elevators, I glanced to make sure Susan and Laura were not still there. The didn't want to have to ride the elevator with them, Susan assuredly smirking at me the whole way. They were already gone, so I pushed the button and waited. I looked at my watch; it was about 10:30, meaning that I must have been in that bathroom with them for about an hour. An elevator quickly arrived, which I was thankful for, because the last thing I wanted to do besides bumping into Susan and Laura was to run into anybody else from the conference. I entered and pushed the button for my floor, and as the elevator ascended, I reached in my pocket to get my key. As I did, I felt the soft, wet silk of Susan's red panties in there, which caused me to think about Susan's parting words: "I'll let you know when I want to see you again to get them back." I had no idea what she meant by that, but I was afraid that she was going to go back on her word. She had told me that if I had done everything she told me to, that neither she nor Laura would ever say anything to anybody about what had happened in that bathroom. Yet she told me to hold on to her panties and that she would get them from me later during the conference, a directive that caused me to think she had more things up her sleeve. The elevator doors opened at my floor, and I exited and turned right toward my room. I glanced quickly over my shoulder to make sure that neither Susan nor Laura were at the other end of the hall, where their rooms were. With a sense of relief, I saw nobody else in the hall, and continued on down to my room and went inside. I quickly stripped off my clothes, emptying the pockets of my pants on the dresser. Susan's panties landed unceremoniously on top of my change, cell phone, and a roll of Life Savers. I stared at them for a second, then quickly grabbed them and threw them into the drawer of the dresser where I kept my own underwear. I buried them under my own boxers and socks. I hopped into the shower in order to try to cleanse from my body, if not my mind, the memory of what had happened to me. I was both ashamed and confused; on the one hand, I was humiliated by getting caught by Susan and by what she had made me do. On the other, I had to recognize that I also had been incredibly turned on by the exercise. The fact that I had been aroused by being dominated by Susan didn't totally surprise me. My wife Sarah and I had played some role playing games before, some of which involved dominance and submission. But those had only been games, and had been with my own wife. So the fact that I was so aroused as I was dominated and humiliated by Susan – and in front of her graduate student – was somewhat troubling to me. I finished showering, dried off, brushed my teeth, and walked back into the room. I then did something I almost never did – I went into the minibar in my room and grabbed a nip of scotch. I threw some clothes on and went down the hall to fill up my ice bucket. When I returned, a put a few cubes in a glass and poured the scotch over it. I downed the scotch in about three gulps, almost causing me to choke as it went down. At that point I figured a little self-medication would help me sleep. I got into bed and tossed and turned for a while, the activities of the evening running through my head. After what must have been an hour of this, I finally fell asleep. ************* Back in the shower the next morning, all I could think of was what Susan's intent was in leaving her panties with me. I wasn't sure whether she was just trying to tease me and make me nervous about what she might do, or whether she intended to continue what she had started in the women's room last night. In either event, I knew that I had few options other than to play along, because she had enough evidence that she could use to do great damage to me. After the shower, I got dressed, putting on some respectable academic clothes for my paper session. I grabbed the stuff I needed and shoved it into my backpack and walked out the door. What I desperately needed was a cup of coffee and some sugar to cram into my mouth. As I was closing the door, I remembered what Susan had said about telling me when she wanted her panties back. I had no clue when she was going to want them, but I decided the safest thing was to have them with me at all times. So I headed back into the room and found them where I had left them last night in the bottom of the drawer. As I picked them up, I realized that they were no longer wet, having dried overnight. I quickly sniffed them, partly out of curiosity and party from the memory of what I had done last night. They still smelled quite ripe, the memories of my subservience to Susan rushing once again into my brain. I quickly put them into one of the pockets of my pack and headed out once again. I exited the elevator in the lobby and found my way to the ubiquitous Starbucks kiosk. Even though it was a small conference, there was still quite a line of fellow academics looking for that caffeine fix they so needed to make it through a day's worth of mind-numbing and tedious discussions of English – or more precisely, British – literature. As I waited for the slow line to progress, I glanced around the lobby trying to see if Susan was anywhere in sight. I knew that I couldn't avoid her for the rest of the conference over the next few days, but I was going to work damn hard to minimize how many times I did have to see her. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, as she didn't appear to be anywhere nearby. After about five or six minutes, it was finally my turn to give my order to the Starbucks barista. The young woman must have been about 19 or 20, probably a college student earning a few extra dollars working here at the hotel. She was cute as a button, so I smiled at her and gave her my order, doing my flirting-with-the-young-college-student act that I enjoyed so much (and I hoped they enjoyed as well). As she smiled back and handed me my change, her hand grazed mine, and a little shiver ran down my spine. But I quickly realized there was probably no meaning behind it, and I mumbled a "thank you," and went to the other end of the counter to pick up my large – excuse me, "Grande" – coffee and cinnamon roll. I looked at my watch and realized I had just a few minutes to get to the meeting room where the first session I was going to attend was to be held. It wasn't the session where I had to give my paper, but nevertheless, I hated to walk in late to these things. As I turned away from the counter to head toward the meeting room, I bumped right into somebody walking by. I somehow managed to hold on to my coffee and roll, and only spilled a few drops through the sipping hole and onto the floor. As I recovered, I looked up at who the klutz was who almost ran me down, and I almost dropped the coffee and roll again when I realized it was Laura, Susan's graduate student. She was gathering up a folder that she dropped, and when she arose again and looked at me, I saw that she was about as horrified to bump into me as I was to see her. She said, "I'm sorry, Professor Arnold," and quickly ran off before I could say anything in return. I turned and looked back at the people in the coffee queue who witnessed the run-in, and they all had an amused look on their face. They probably thought it was the typical terrified grad student, afraid that she had spilled coffee on a senior professor, and that she had just ruined her chances of ever landing a job. All I could think was, "If they only knew the truth." I managed to make it to the meeting room without further incident. I entered, and found a seat on an aisle, not too far from the back. I found that these early morning sessions were usually lackluster, so I liked to position myself for a quick exit. I sat through the three papers, one of which was pretty bad, the other two at least interesting enough that I chose to stick around. The discussant's comments were, as usual, condescending and totally unhelpful, but the grad students giving their papers nodded seriously and graciously and thanked the pompous fool for his insightful (in their words) comments. I felt sort of badly for one of the students, to whom the discussant had been particularly mean, so when the question and answer period opened up, I threw her a softball question. I started with my interpretation of what she had to say, then asked her if she agreed. She answered affirmatively, then elaborated a bit more on what she had written in the paper. When she finished, I smiled at her and said, "Thank you." The moderator asked if there were other questions. I heard a clear, strong voice directly behind me say, "I beg to differ with Professor Arnold, but I have a slightly different take on your interpretation." I didn't have to turn around to know who it was – I immediately recognized Susan Bascom's voice. I hadn't seen her there when I came in so she must have entered the room after I did. I wanted to ignore her, but realized that would be so obvious to the 20 or so others in the room, many of whom were colleagues who knew both of us. So I turned slightly in my chair to look at her, and I gave her a curt smile. She gave me an even broader smile back, then turned back toward the woman giving the paper and continued with her question. As Susan spoke, I looked at her once again. She was wearing one of her signature outfits, not unlike what I saw her in last night – low-cut blouse showing off her ample cleavage, expensive-looking silk scarf, and a skirt cut respectably above her knee. All was constructed to maximize the sexiness of her body. As I wrote earlier, she was by no means a thin woman, but she carried her weight quite well and she knew how to dress to look her best. Even though at 50 she was about a decade older than I was, I had to admit she still looked damn good. And I knew that she still turned heads among both the faculty and grad students at the conference. The young woman listened to Susan's question and then respectfully answered it. Susan was very polite back, thanking her and complimenting her. I had no desire to interact with her when the session ended, so after one more question I discreetly turned and walked to the door in the back of the meeting room without making eye contact with her. I quietly opened it, left the room, and went to close it behind me. But before I could, I felt pressure pushing back on it, and I knew exactly who it would be. Sure enough, Susan pulled the door open and exited the room, giving me the same broad smile she had laid on me just a few minutes ago. After she closed the door, Susan said, "Well, Bob, what did you think of that panel?" All I could do was just stare at her, mouth agape, totally at a loss for words. Was she going to just carry on like nothing had happened last night? "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" she asked, this time in a much lower voice and with a clear twinkle in her eye. After I still did not respond, she said, "Or should I ask, pussy got your tongue?" With that, she laughed heartily and took a step closer to me, so that she was right in front of me. With her height, and her fashionable heels, she was probably an inch or two taller than me. She leaned in, and whispered in my ear, "You'll be hearing from me, pet – you still have something of mine you need to return, don't you?" As she said this, she reached down and grabbed hold of my balls through my trousers. I flinched and quickly looked around, terrified that somebody may have seen what she did. But I realized her body in front of mine camouflaged what was going on, so to anybody watching it would just appear she was whispering something to me. She squeezed again, and I quickly whispered back to her, "Yes, I know." She released her grip, smiled once again, and continued on down the hallway, leaving me in her wake. I just stood there, glued to the spot, staring at her well-curved ass as it retreated. After a few seconds I shook my head and thought to myself, "Is this going to be what the next few days will be like, random encounters with Susan and Laura?" I had no desire for this, and thought for a second maybe I should just leave the conference. But I had my paper to give later today, never mind one on the last day and I was also the discussant on another panel. And I had Susan's admonition about not leaving the conference early – I was not about to take a chance on inciting her wrath, not knowing exactly how far she would go with the evidence she held against me. After realizing this, I headed back toward the lobby for another round with the barista at Starbucks. Nothing like a good shot of caffeine – though I started thinking that scotch would taste pretty good right now – to help get you through the day. I headed back to the lobby for a cappuccino this time (though the cute college student was gone), and then proceeded on to the next session. The papers in this one were only a slight improvement from the last, but at least Susan was not stalking me in this session also. I ran into a colleague from the west coast, Marnie Carney whose company I enjoyed quite a bit, so it was nice to see her again. Yes, I know, that is her real name! We were in grad school together, and she was already married when I first met her. For the life of me, I never understood why she took her husband's name when it would result in a rhyme like that, but she did. The irony is that she divorced him a few years after getting her Ph.D., but since she had started her academic career and publishing under that name, she had little choice but to keep it. I had always been attracted to Marnie, but by the time she was divorced I was already married to Sarah. I still enjoyed spending time with her the few opportunities we had to get together at various conferences and meetings. Marnie and I had lunch after that session, getting caught up on each other's lives, the office gossip – the usual, who was turned down for tenure, who was hot on the job market, which of our colleagues were sleeping with their students, etc. (needless to say, I stayed away from the topic of Susan Bascom) – and I found it was a great distraction from all that had gone on in the last day. We parted with plans to have dinner the next night to continue the discussion. My paper session was right after lunch, so I found my way to that room. As the session started, I quickly scanned the room, expecting to see Susan. I thought maybe she'd take the opportunity to try to humiliate me in public, albeit this time in a more appropriate manner. Somewhat to my surprise, and admittedly, perhaps, my disappointment, she wasn't there. I managed to stumble through my paper without making too much of an idiot of myself. This discussant was a bit more polite than the earlier ones I had heard, though he clearly knew nothing about the subject of my paper (the influence of the Industrial Revolution on the development of child characters in the British novel in the late 19th century). I smiled and thanked him, which was the appropriate thing to do, then entertained a couple of questions from the audience. One or two fawning graduate students came up to me after the session to tell me how much they admired my work and just how influential it had been on their own. I was used to this academic bullshit – I knew the two of them were trying to grease the skids for when they went on the job market themselves, as my university was known as one of the plum places to work. I smiled, thanked them, and then made a hasty retreat. By that time I had had enough; there is only so much time that you can sit and listen to people drone on about the British novel. So I headed back to my room. I knew the hotel had a pool, so I thought a nice late afternoon swim would be good to clear my head. As I exited the elevator on my floor, I quickly peeked to the left, not wanting to run into either Susan or Laura. There was nobody there, of course, and I realized I was being unduly paranoid. I went on to my room, entered, and threw my backpack on the bed. As I started to take my clothes off, I noticed the red message light on the phone was blinking. I thought it might be Marnie calling to make plans for dinner the next evening, so I called the hotel's voicemail system, listened to the instructions, then punched in the codes to retrieve my messages. Instead of Marnie's voice, however, it was Susan's I heard through the telephone handset. "Tomorrow night, pet, 6:00pm, you'll return what you have of mine. Room 517." "Damn," I thought, just after I had made plans with Marnie for tomorrow. She was leaving the following morning, and didn't want to miss the opportunity to have dinner with her. So I picked up the phone and dialed Susan's room, figuring I would get her voicemail. "Hello," I heard her answer, much to my surprise. I hesitated for a second, then said, "Susan, it's Bob." "Oh, hi there Bob. You got my message, I presume?" "Yes, I did, but I can't make it then, I made plans. . ." But before I could go any further, she cut me off. "6:00pm tomorrow pet, and don't be late, or else." And with that she hung up the phone. I stood there holding the handset, just staring at it, infuriated at what she was doing to me. I slammed it back on the phone, changed into my bathing suit, and stormed down to the pool to try to take out my frustrations in some laps. The Mentor Ch. 03 ************* That evening and the next day went by in a blur. I couldn't focus on the awards banquet that evening, the speeches any of the recipients made, or any of the sessions I attended the next day. All I could think about was having to deal with Susan again. In the back of my mind I was hoping that I'd go to her room, return her panties, and she'd just laugh the whole thing off. But I suspected it was not going to be that easy. In the morning I had called and left a message in Marnie's room, apologizing for having to cancel our dinner plans. I simply told her that something had come up, and we would get caught up with one another at the MLA convention. Late in the afternoon I went back to the pool for a swim, then returned to my room and showered and changed. It was about 5:30, so I figured I would go through my e-mail before I headed off to Susan's room. I started scanning my e-mail, which contained the usual combination of spam (offers of Canadian drugs, erection-producing pharmaceuticals, low-cost mortgages, and Nigerian lottery proceeds), questions from students, and administrative crap from my university that I immediately deleted. But then one message caught my eye; I didn't recognize the return address, which was from a Yahoo account, but the subject line said, "For you, pet." I opened it up, and saw that it had an attachment, and started to hit the delete button, figuring it was just more spam. But then I saw the message: "Bob, Thought you would enjoy this little preview. Professor Bascom" I double-clicked on the attachment, which was a jpeg file, and a photograph filled my screen. I quickly saw that it was the picture that Susan had had Laura take of me two nights ago, naked and kneeling in front of her, with my hands tied behind my back. Thankfully, Susan had blanked out my face and hers, so you could not tell who it was in the picture, but I knew exactly who it was. I groaned, and immediately deleted the mail message. What did she mean by "preview," I thought, but I was afraid that it was not a good sign. I looked at the clock next to the bed and saw that it was a few minutes before 6:00, so I grabbed Susan's panties out of my pack, and walked down the hall to her room. I knocked lightly on the door of room 517, and after a few seconds, it swung open. Much to my surprise, it wasn't Susan standing there, but Laura. "Oh crap," I thought, "I have to deal with both Susan and her." I muttered a "hello" to her and entered the room, as she closed the door behind me without saying a word. As I walked into the room, I saw it was not just a regular hotel room, but was in fact a suite. I was a bit envious that Susan's university would pay for her to have a suite, when most of us struggled to convince our employers to reimburse us for the full cost of a regular room at one of these conference hotels. I was standing in a large living area. It had a full size sofa, small round dining table with four chairs around it, a television, and a couple of other plush chairs to sit in. I saw too that she had a balcony with a chaise lounge and a nice view of the city. Over on the other side of the room was a small galley kitchen, and another room that looked like it must have been a bathroom off the living area. One more closed door must have led to the bedroom. I looked at Laura, who was standing there silently looking back at me. Finally, when it became apparent that she wasn't going to say anything, I asked, "Where is Susan?" "Professor Bascom will be out in a moment," she replied. "Would you like something to drink while you wait?" I thought about it for a second and then figured, "What the fuck." Might as well have something to help me get through whatever Susan had planned. Laura's offering of a drink, in contrast to my interaction with her a couple of nights ago, gave me some slight hope that maybe this was going to be just a chance for the three of us to laugh about what had happened, and then it would be all over. "I'll have a scotch on the rocks, if you have it," I told Susan's grad student as I sat down on the sofa. She turned and walked into the kitchen, opening a cabinet to retrieve a glass. She then opened another cabinet which I saw was well-stocked with four or five types of liquor, mixers, and assorted bar equipment. Now I was very envious of the accommodations Susan was enjoying. Clearly, her accomplishments had provided her with very nice treatment by her university. Laura returned and handed me my drink, sitting down after in one of the chairs. I sipped it a bit as she sat there looking at me. Finally, after a few moments, I said somewhat exasperated and sarcastically, "Do you know when Susan will be making her appearance?" Just as I got it out of my mouth, the door of the bedroom area opened and Susan came into the room, closing the door behind her. She was dressed much more casually now, in what looked like some kind of silk dressing robe with a sash around her waist, and no shoes on. "Well hello again Bob, thank you for joining us," she said with a smile, stopping a few feet in front of me and extending her hand. I stood up and shook her hand. "I apologize for my appearance, but I was running a little late and was just getting ready to jump into the shower when I realized what time it was. I had such a busy day today, running around here and there, going to sessions, getting caught up with people. You know how that is, don't you?" "Yes, Susan, I do," I replied, not quite knowing how to gauge her tone and where she was going with the conversation. "Excuse me, Bob, can you say that again, please?" I stared, standing there a couple of feet in front of her, totally bewildered. I saw that without her heels on we were now about the same height. I thought what I had said was quite clear. But then I looked at her eyes, which were staring straight at mine, and I realized what she wanted. "Yes, Professor Bascom, I do know how that is," I said. A smile crossed her face as she released my hand. "Ah, much better, my pet, I'm glad you remember the proper way to address me." I resisted the temptation to look over at Laura to see how she was reacting to this act, and simply sat down again. Susan grabbed one of the stuffed chairs next to Laura, facing me, and demurely sat down, crossing her legs and covering them as best as she could with the robe. "Did you bring my panties back, Bob?" "Yes, Professor Bascom, I have them," I replied, standing up and taking them out of my pocket. "Bring them to me, please, pet." I walked over to her and handed them to her, standing over her. From that angle I had a nice view of her ample cleavage down her robe. I thought I could see her nipples poking into the robe, but it was hard to tell among the soft folds of the silk. She reached for the panties and looked at them, then lifted them to her nose and sniffed them for a second. With a look of disgust she threw them down on the floor about five feet away and shouted at me, "DID YOU THINK I WANTED THEM RETURNED TO ME DIRTY, YOU IDIOT?" I almost jumped and hit the ceiling, shocked as I was to be yelled at by her. I didn't know what to say, so I mumbled a "I'm sorry," and went to sit down again. "Get back here, I didn't tell you to sit down," Susan said sternly. I stopped, turned around, and walked back to her. As I did, I could see Laura's face, which had a look of intense concentration, staring at Susan. As I stood in front of her again, she said in a more calm voice, "Get down on your knees." Now wanting to endure her wrath again, I did as she told. "I'll forgive you this time, Bob, but you need to clean them for me now," she said, now looking down at me. "What!?!?," I almost shouted up at her. "You heard me," she said, still in a calm voice. "Take them into the bathroom there and wash them for me," and she pointed toward the bathroom off the living area. I couldn't believe she was making me do this. The humiliation of this act was compounded by Laura witnessing it. Usually, I was the one with the power over the grad students, and the idea that this young woman was watching Susan debase me was mortifying. "Oh, come on Su --, I mean Professor Bascom," I said. "Give me a break, this is ridiculous." "Bob," she said, still with a calm in her voice. "Did you get my e-mail a little while ago?" "Yes," I replied. "And you realize, of course, that I have a copy of that photo without your face blurred out." "Yes, Professor Bascom," I replied solemnly, "I realize that." "Good. Then being the smart man that you are, I'm sure you also realize that as easily as I e-mailed that picture to you, I could send the other version of it to anybody I so choose. Such as your department chair, your colleagues, and even Sarah." The thought of any of these possibilities was nauseating, but I was particularly concerned about the idea of my wife, Sarah, seeing the pictures and finding out what had happened. I looked up at Susan, and after hesitating a few seconds, I said defeatedly, "Yes, Professor Bascom, I know that." "Okay, then what do you need to do?" she asked. I went to pick up the panties on the floor next to me, but before I could reach for them she said, "I asked you a question, Bob." I stopped, and turned back to her. "I need to wash them." She just stared at me, again with that intent gaze, waiting for me to correct myself. I sighed, and said, "I need to wash your panties for you, Professor Bascom." She gave me a small smile and replied, "Much better, pet. Now get to your task. Be sure to wash them thoroughly, and you'll find a hair dryer in there you can use to dry them." I reached for the panties one more time, but she stopped me once again. "No, pet, don't use your hands, that would be too easy for you. Crawl over there and pick them up with your mouth, then crawl to the bathroom." I hesitated again, not believing she was doing this to me. When I first came to her room, I really had hoped that I would return the panties, we'd laugh, and it would be over with. She would have had her kinky little fun and games the other night, and that would be the end of it. But I realized now there was going to be more of her dominance to which I was going to have to submit. Resigned to my fate, I crawled the few feet over to the panties, leaned forward and picked them with my mouth, and then turned to crawl to the bathroom. As I did so, I heard Susan let out a little "Woof, woof – just like a good doggy, huh Laura?" Laura chuckled a little and said, "Yes, Professor Bascom." Thoroughly humiliated, I scampered on all fours over to the bathroom as fast as I could. When I got in there, I heard Susan say, "Okay, you can stand up now so you can reach the sink and dryer." I stood, thankful to get off my knees. I turned on the tap and waited for the hot water to come out, and when it did, I began to soak the panties in the sink. I heard Susan's voice directly behind me now saying, "Be sure to use some soap, they were pretty dirty, weren't they pet?" Turning and seeing her standing there watching me, I replied, "Yes, ma'am," and proceeded to unwrap the small hotel bar of soap next to the sink and rub it over the panties. "Much better, pet." I soaped them up, then soaked them again in the sink. I emptied the water and filled up the basin with clean water, dabbing the panties up and down. The act of doing this caused the memory of my servicing Susan's pussy in the bathroom a couple of nights ago to flood back into my brain. I was once again ashamed to realize that the sense of humiliation of how I felt between her legs that night was causing me to be aroused, as I felt my cock stirring in my pants. After rinsing out the panties, I bunched them up in my hands to get out the excess water, and then took the hair dryer off the wall. I put it on a medium setting, and holding the panties in one hand, proceeded to wave the dryer all around them, trying my best to get them dry as soon as possible so I could get this over with. After about five minutes of this, they were dry. As I put the dryer back, I gazed into the mirror, and saw Susan still standing and leaning against the door frame with a smile on her face. I turned and handed them to her. She simply stood, staring at me once again, the smile now having left her face. After a few moments, I realized what she was waiting for. "Here are your panties, Professor Bascom, all cleaned," I said. She smiled again and reached out and took them from my hand. "Thank you, pet, much better," as she rubbed her fingers over them and then sniffed them. "Now please give me a hand." And with that, she handed them back to me, but I was unsure exactly what she wanted me to do with them now. She stepped into the bathroom, stood next to me, and placed one hand on my shoulder. She undid the sash on her robe, causing it to fall open. As she did, I got a partial view of her large breasts, though her nipples were still covered by the robe. But her shaved pussy was quite visible to me, which only reinforced the memories of my servitude to her. I felt her hand pushing down on my shoulder as she said, "Please help me into them, pet." Understanding what she wanted, I knelt down in the bathroom with the panties as she lifted her right foot off the ground. I put the panties around that foot, and then she shifted to raise the left one. I put the other leg hole around that foot, and as she placed it back on the tile of the bathroom, I lifted them up her legs, and did my best to situate them over her curvy ass and on to her waist. As I kneeled there, I got a good look at her shaved pussy as it was just about at my eye level. More importantly, I got a good whiff of it, and it was quite evident that Susan was being truthful when she said she had not had a chance to shower before I got there, as her pussy was quite ripe from the day's activities. I sensed also just a hint of her arousal that had enveloped me the other night in the bathroom, and I knew that she once again was being turned on by what she was doing to me. "Very good, pet, thank you," she said with a smile. She turned and walked out of the bathroom. At that point, I realized that I had to pee, so I started to close the door. I heard Susan say, "What are you doing?" I opened the door enough so she could see me and replied, "I have to go to the bathroom." She laughed. "What, all the running water got to you, huh?" "I guess so." "Okay, go ahead, then. But leave the door open." I simply stared at her and uttered, "What?" "You heard me, leave the door open." At this I didn't respond, but pushed the door open all the way. I resignedly unzipped my fly, and began to take out my cock, but before I could I heard Susan's voice, this time right behind me again. "No, Bob, I don't want to take a chance on you dirtying up my bathroom. Sit down on the toilet if you have to pee." More humiliation, I thought, but knowing there was little I could do, I undid my belt and dropped my trousers to my ankles. I then pushed my boxers down over my cock, which was still slightly erect, and before I could turn around, I heard her say, "Nice ass you have there, Bob. At least for a guy." She laughed, and then said, "Come here, Laura, why don't you check him out." I stood still as I heard Laura walking toward me. "What do you think, Laura, does he have a nice ass?" Susan asked her. "Yes, Professor Bascom," was all she said. "And now the front, Bob. Turn around and give us another view of that penis of yours." I did as she told, shuffling around with my trousers and boxers at my ankles. As my semi-erect cock bobbed in front of me, I blushed, which Susan immediately picked up on. "Why, I think he's a little embarrassed, aren't you Bob," she said to Laura. Ashamed, I said, "Yes, ma'am." "Well, nothing to be ashamed of, Bob. Laura and I already knew you were a pussy-loving little pet who enjoys being bossed around, didn't we?" "Yes, we did, Professor Bascom." Susan laughed and said to me, "Okay, Bob, go ahead." Between the two of them watching me, and my bobbing cock, I didn't think there was anyway I would be able to pee. But I really had to go, so I sat down, and waited for a few moments as the two of them stood there. Thankfully, my erection finally subsided enough for me to push my cock down and pee into the toilet. After I finished, I stood up, pulled up my boxers and pants, and waited. Susan turned and walked back into the living area, followed by Laura. Susan had re-tied the sash on her robe, which now hugged her ample ass which swayed as she walked. I followed them into the room as Susan sat on the couch this time, Laura next to her. She motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs facing them. We sat silently for a minute or so, Susan just staring at me. Finally, she said, "You have been a naughty little boy, haven't you Bob?" I stared back at her and said, "Actually, I've done everything you've asked me to Sus – uh, Professor Bascom, so can't we bring this whole thing to a close and just forget about it?" "No, I don't think so, pet. I've been thinking about just what you did the other night, and how embarrassing it is for a senior professor like you to be caught in such a compromising position. I've decided that the punishment you've endured is not enough yet." "Oh, come on," I replied with anger in my voice, "give me a break. Haven't you had enough of your little game, yet?" "No, Bob, I haven't had enough yet. I will tell you when I've had enough. Now get over here." I stood up, and once again I had a fleeting thought of just getting up and walking out of the room. I really thought Susan was bluffing about sending the pictures out or telling anybody what had happened. But I knew I simply couldn't take the chance, so I walked over toward her and Laura. "Take off your shoes and socks, and drop your trousers and boxers, Bob," Susan said as I stood before her. Dejectedly, I took off the shoes and socks and once again undid my belt and followed her command. "Now get up here and kneel on the sofa, leaning over the back." I looked at her alarmedly and said, "Why? What are going to do?" "Just do as I said, Bob," she replied in a stern voice. "As I told you, you still need to be punished for being a naughty little pet." Hearing that tone, I did as she said, getting up on the sofa with my ankles with my pants and boxers bunched around them hanging over the edge. I leaned forward with my arms and head on the padded, rounded back of the sofa. "Laura, take off his pants and underwear." I felt Laura complying, leaving me totally naked from the waist down. I was wearing a polo shirt that did little to cover up my bare ass. I shivered at the thought of what was going to happen. I felt Susan's hand rubbing over my ass, which admittedly felt good, as I heard her say, "I think a naughty little boy needs a good spanking, don't you Laura?" "Yes, ma'am," she replied. "And I've got just the person to administer it," Susan said, removing her hand from my ass. I felt her rise from the couch, and I had the sickening feeling that she was going to tell Laura to spank me. The thought that this grad student was going to be doing this to me was awful, and I shuddered at the thought. But I heard Susan walk away from the couch. She came into my view as she headed toward the door to the bedroom of the suite. I looked over at her as she opened it, smiled, and said to somebody inside, "C'mon out, my dear. Time for you to join all the fun we've been having." As horrified as I had been at what had transpired over the last fifteen minutes, the feeling was compounded ten times as I saw who Susan had invited into the room to administer the punishment. The Mentor Ch. 03 This is the third and final installment of the story about Eve, the writing student and her mentor, Prof. Brett Michaels. I recommend you read the first two chapters before reading the finale. (And if you feel like it, comment!) Thanks. Petitmort. * Eve sat on the grass watching her fellow students carry cardboard boxes down the dormitory stairs to the cars waiting in the courtyard below. It was mid-June -- moving out day. College was over for the year, graduation had come and gone, and the students were anxious to get to the next destination in their journeys. Except for Eve. She was house-sitting for Prof. Michaels and was sticking around a few more days until he returned. An award-winning author, Prof. Michaels was Eve's creative writing teacher and he had hired Eve earlier in the year to manage affairs at his house while he was out of town. His editor and publisher were both in New York City and his latest book was about to go to galleys. Eve had transferred to the school specifically to take Michaels' short story seminar. She had to submit a writing sample to get into the class. Luckily, he liked her writing enough for her to get in. She had learned an incredible amount from the experience. Her writing had matured tremendously and her confidence as a writer, thanks to his mentorship, was riding high. Elsewhere, her life was more turbulent. She had developed a deep and unremitting sexual attraction to Prof. Michaels. One of the short stories she'd written -- titled "Bittersweet" -- was about the sexual awakening of a young woman. Michaels had coached her on how to explore the deeper issues of the story and Eve had misread the signals. She fell for him. Hard. Michaels was a good fifteen years older than Eve and had recently separated from his wife. He was tall, dark, and incredibly handsome--to Eve anyway. She found herself fantasizing about him repeatedly. At night, she would imagine him making love to her and she would bring herself to orgasm while her roommate slumbered nearby. At first, Eve tried to get Michaels' attention by wearing tight tops that accentuated her ample breasts. During office hours, she'd shown up wearing a short skirt and boots but he always maintained a professional distance. So, she devoted all her energies to her writing, partly to impress him, but mainly to improve her craft. She was serious about wanting to become a writer and the feedback he'd given her thus far was encouraging. She took his feedback to heart when it made sense to her and challenged it when it didn't. If she couldn't attract him with her body, perhaps she could with her mind. Over the course of the school year, Eve fell into a relationship with one of her classmates, David. It wasn't a romance, really, they were more or less "fuck buddies." She and David would study together and then sneak sex where they could. Once, late at night, they'd done it in the stacks of the library. Mostly, they'd fuck in each other's dorm rooms when their respective roommates weren't around. David was awfully good in bed and Eve looked forward to their times together. While normally somewhat inhibited, she found herself becoming much freer and more sexually adventurous as a result of their friendship. The night before graduation, Eve and David partied with friends to celebrate the end of the school year. Afterwards, they snuck off to a stairwell in her dormitory. Both of their roommates were packing so it was the only place they could find to be together. David was going home the next day and both of them were craving one last tryst together. They snuck up to the top of the carpeted stairwell trying hard not to be noticed by the RA. It was past midnight and the hallways were empty. The top of the stairs was dark, save for the green glow of the exit sign. He pressed her against the wall in the stairway and they kissed with a fiery passion. Their hands were on each other in an instant, unbuttoning each other's pants and pulling off their shirts. There was a sense of urgency, even desperation, in their furtive groping. Soon they were naked and he was pressing himself against her, his fingers finding her pussy. She pushed him back to slow him down and they both sunk to their knees. Kneeling below her on the carpeted staircase, he started to kiss her neck. She loved the feeling of his soft lips kissing her there. It always made her hot, and he knew it. He worked his way down her body, tonguing and kissing her, paying special attention to her big, full breasts. He lifted her leg onto his shoulder and his lips brushed softly against her inner thigh. She lay back on the stairs with her eyes closed as his tongue found her pussy. Eve wasn't that experienced sexually, but she was a quick study. She had learned she loved dangerous sex, for instance. It made her extremely hot. The risk of getting caught stoked her already healthy libido. Feeling his tongue inside her, in the darkness, she let her imagination go. What if she wasn't in the stairwell at all? What if she was in his house--Prof. Michaels. What if he had come home early from New York and surprised her there. What if this was him touching her? Wanting her. Loving her. Stop it, Eve! He's not even interested in you. You're with David now, for crissakes! Eve cared for David, she really did. And she found him very hot. A former actor, David was well-built and extremely handsome. He treated her with respect and didn't take their "friends with benefits" status for granted. Eve banished thoughts of her teacher from her mind. She stroked David's head with both hands and raised her pelvis to his mouth. Her head swirled as his tongue and lips worked her pussy feverishly. Suddenly, he was kissing her and she could taste herself on his lips. She reached down and found his rigid cock. She stroked it a few times but it needed no encouragement -- it was as hard as a rock. She guided him to her pussy. As he pushed the head of his cock between her velvety lips, she let out a throaty moan. That's it. That's where you belong. Fill me up with your beautiful, beautiful cock! Slowly, he slid his long shaft inside her wet, hot pussy. He always filled her so beautifully. She arched her back as he started to stroke her ... slowly ... steadily. "Yes, fuck me," Eve moaned as she felt him push deep inside her. Her hands felt the muscles of his shoulders and back as he moved in and out of her. Fuck me. Fuck me good so I don't ever have to think about him again. "Oh, fuck yes. It feels so good," she moaned. She reached down and gripped his ass with both hands, pulling him deeper inside. David arched his back and pressed his cock as deep as it would go. To the hilt. She cried out. He thrust his hips and she felt him pressing against her cervix. She cried out again. Her orgasm was approaching, and so was his. He reached down and rubbed her clit with his thumb. Her body began to shake. Laying on the stairs, her legs splayed wide, he impaled her again and again bringing her to a shattering, moaning climax. "Oh God ... Yes ... Yes ... Yes ... Yes ... Come ... come with me!!!" David felt an electrical charge shoot through his taut, twenty-five year old body and straight out the tip of his cock. Big loads of cum shot deep inside her hot, wet pussy. With each spurt, he grunted with an animal passion. They moaned and grunted in unison, they're bodies convulsing with pleasure. Finally, he collapsed beside her, out of breath. They lay there for a moment, catching their breath. She ran her hands over his strong thighs to his ass, firm and tight. Her mouth found his cock and took the tip between her lips and tasted their combined juices. She took him deep in her throat and released him with a smack. One last taste to remember him by. "That was ... incredible," said David, with a smile. "As always." Eve reached out and touched him lightly on the face. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?" she asked. "Around noon. My folks are driving out in the mini-van." "Nice of them." "Yeah." He ran his finger slowly across her lower lip. "You gonna stick around?" "Yeah. For a bit." He nodded. "You gonna tell 'im?" "Who?" "Michaels." "Tell him what?" He reached out and gently tucked her blond hair behind her ear. "How you feel about him?" "What?" How does he know? What did I say? "C'mon, Eve, it's me. It's ok." She looked down at her hands. "Is it that obvious?" "Just to me. I see the way you look at him. In class." Eve embraced him, her head on his chest. David was the last person she thought she'd be discussing this with. She wanted desperately not to hurt him. "I just don't want to be cliché. The student obsessed with her teacher." "Former teacher," he said matter-of-factly. "You graduated." "Whatever. He's the famous author and I'm just another student." "Hardly. You're the best writer in the class. Probably in the school." "I don't know about that." "OK, 'Miss A-plus.' Whatever you say." Eve smiled plaintively and laid her head back on his chest. The next day, David gave Eve a hug goodbye as his parents watched from the van nearby. He had introduced her as "my friend from writing class" and Eve greeted them warmly. She hadn't expected anything more and if it were her introducing her parents to him, she'd have probably used the same language. She and David had agreed to keep things "light," given where they were in their lives. David was returning to the Midwest to work for his Dad's law firm for the summer. Eve was going to Europe for six weeks with a backpack and a Eurail pass—a graduation gift from her parents. She definitely wanted to stay friends with David but there were no more expectations than that. For either of them. Now, as Eve sat on the grass watching the students carrying their boxes to their cars, she felt like she was ending a chapter in her life and about to embark on a new, uncharted one. She decided to walk to Prof. Michaels' house and take care of her daily housesitting chores. At least it was something to do. She walked from campus, through the downtown area, to Michaels' house in a leafy section of town. She collected the mail from the foyer floor and placed it in a neat pile in his office. She put out food for the cat and watered each of the plants. Michaels was due back the following day and she wanted to make sure everything was in its place. She glanced at the cat's dish and wondered where it was. "Portia," she called. "Here, Kitty Kitty." She found the cat upstairs in the master bedroom, sleeping on the king-sized bed. "There you are. Do you miss Daddy?" She sat next to the cat and stroked her soft fur. She looked around the bedroom. Bookshelves, a marbletop dresser, an oriental rug. So this is where the great writer sleeps. This could be our bed. Our refuge. Where we talk. And dream. And make love. She imagined him laying on the bed, looking at her, smiling. Oh, the things I'd do for you in this bed. She glided her hand along her inner thigh. Suddenly a chiming sound from downstairs. Shit, that's the doorbell. She picked up the cat, descended the stairs, and set her down next to her food in the kitchen. She headed for the front door, glancing at herself in the mirror in the hallway. She was dressed in a white blouse and jeans -- she had wanted to look presentable for David's folks. She opened the front door and revealed a tall, elegantly-dressed woman of about forty. Eve recognized her immediately from the photographs in Michaels' office. Oh my God! It's his wife. What's she doing here? The woman looked as surprised to see Eve as Eve was to see her. She was even more beautiful in person than in her pictures. Eve was momentarily speechless. The woman spoke first. "Well, he didn't waste much time did he?" Condescension oozed from her English accent. "Excuse me?" "Well, you're definitely his type." Eve felt herself stand a little taller, mustering her most dignified tone. "I'm housesitting for Prof. Michaels. I'm his student." A wave of regret immediately swept across the woman's face. "Forgive me. That was terribly rude. I'm Guinevere McIntosh. I'm Brett's ... Prof Michaels' ... wife." Eve smiled and nodded. Indeed you are. "Eve Lawson. How do you do?" Eve reached out her hand and they shook, politely. "Prof. Michaels is out of town. He's due back tomorrow." The woman seemed to process this information. She suddenly looked less sure of herself, even vulnerable. "I ... brought these papers to give him. I ... didn't want to just mail them." She held out a thick envelope. Eve stepped forward and took it from her. Would you...like to come in?" Eve opened the door and took a step back. Guinevere nodded and stepped into the foyer. She glanced at the front rooms without comment. "I'll put this on his desk. Would you like to leave a note?" "Yes. Yes, I would. Thank you." Eve took the envelope to Michaels' office and placed it on the front of his desk. She noticed the return address had a string of last names. Looks a lot like a law firm. She brought a sheet of paper, an envelope, and a pen back to the living room. "Here you are," she said, handing them to her. "Would you like something to drink? Some tea?" The woman took the stationery and pen. "That would be lovely. Thank you." Eve went to the kitchen as Guinevere sat on the living room couch to write her note. A few minutes later, Eve returned carrying a tray. "All he has is English Breakfast. I hope that's okay." Eve placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. Guinevere was sealing the envelope. "That's wonderful. Thank you so much." "Here, I'll put that with the envelope." "Thank you." She smiled and handed Eve the envelope. "You live in the U.K., don't you?" Eve called from the hallway. Eve had read all about her in the tabloids. She was a famous fashion designer. She and Michaels had been estranged for more than a year. "That's right. In London." "I'm planning to go there this summer," Eve said re-entering the room. "My graduation present." Guinevere had poured two cups of tea. She handed one to Eve. "Thanks," said Eve, smiling. "So you just graduated. Congratulations." "Thank you," Eve smiled. "I'm not sure what I'll do with a BA in Creative Writing but there you go." Eve watched her as she took a sip of tea. She had long, wavy brown hair and a slender figure. Her clothes--linen slacks with a light jacket and scarf--were amazing. Casual, yet elegant. "Mmmm. That's heavenly. Thank you, so much." "No problem. Are you hungry? I could ... see what there is to eat?" "Actually, I'm famished. I haven't eaten since the plane." "Well, I haven't had lunch either! Let's see what there is." The two of them headed to the kitchen, like teenagers raiding the frig. Eve pulled out some fruit and cheese. In the cupboard, she found some crackers. They sat at the kitchen table and ate together. Making small talk and getting acquainted. Eve found her fascinating. Impressive, but also disarming. Even girlish at times. "Guinevere ... can I call you Guinevere?" she said, slicing the Jarlsburg cheese. "Of course, dear." "May I ask you a question?" "Of course you can. What is it?" "I was just wondering why... you know... you and Prof. Michaels split up?" Guinevere leaned back and looked into her cup of tea for a moment. Eve suddenly felt as if she'd crossed a line. "I'm sorry. If that's too personal..." Guinevere waved her off. "No, no. It's alright. It's been a long time coming actually. You see, Prof. Michaels...Brett...and I have known each other for a long, long time. We met at Oxford. He was a Rhodes scholar. We've known each other since the beginning. Since before the beginning." Eve nodded, listening intently. It was more than her writer's curiosity at work here. Guinevere continued. "Once our careers took off, we started to live separate lives. On different continents, in different worlds. It's hard to chart the same course under those circumstances." "Do you think there's a chance you'll patch things up?" Guinevere shook her head. "You know the papers I brought for him?" "Divorce papers?" She nodded. "Our time is over. It's for the best. Really." "If you say so." Eve said, simply. Eve stood to replenish the plate with crackers and returned to her seat. "When you said I was his type. What did you mean? Was he unfaithful?" "Oh, I'm so sorry about that. It's just an emotional time for me." "No, no, I understand. Strange woman in your husband's house and everything." "It's not that. Or, maybe it is, a little. It's been more than a year since we've been together. I just felt a little ... replaced. I don't know. I'm sorry." "There's nothing to apologize for," Eve smiled. "Really, don't worry about it." She offered Guinevere the plate of cheese. "No, Brett's nothing if not discreet. If there were other women, I didn't know about it. I'm sure he had opportunities." Eve raised her eyebrows, inviting her to continue. "I mean, all those book tours. With all those adoring fans. I'm sure they were throwing themselves at his feet." She looked at Eve. "Don't you find him attractive?" Eve swallowed, she hoped imperceptibly. "I suppose. For an older man." "Older?" she laughed. "My God, he's only 40. That makes me an older woman too, you know!" Eve waved her hand. "No, no. I didn't mean that. It's just I'm not used to thinking about guys that old in that way. If you know what I mean." Guinevere smiled. "I know what you mean. How old are you, dear?" "Twenty-two." "Ah yes, twenty-two. I remember those years. Do you have a boyfriend?" Eve paused. Talking to Prof. Michaels' estranged wife about David was bordering on the surreal. "There's someone. More of a friend than a boyfriend. He left for home today." Guinevere looked at her with a kind regard. "Well, a girl as lovely as you will do just fine." Eve looked down at her shoes. "That's nice of you to say." Guinevere looked sideways at her. "Are you serious? You know how beautiful you are, don't you? You have a bloody good figure." Eve let out a snort. "Hardly." "Don't be silly. As Brett would say, you've got the perfect combination: boobs, butt, and brains." Eve laughed. "Is that what you meant when you said I was his type?" Guinevere leaned back with laugh. "Well, yes. Like a lot of men, he always had an eye for young women who were ... how shall I put it ... well-endowed." Eve could feel face getting warm. "A breast man, huh?" Guinevere's eyes widened. "Oh yes. Big time. How he ended up with me, I'll never know," she laughed. Her voice became a whisper, conspiratorial. "Promise you won't tell?" Eve nodded. "He used to like sucking like a baby." "Really?" Eve answered, as she poured them some more tea. "Oh, yes." She looked off into space. "How he loved that. Probably a mother thing. You know, too many years breastfeeding or something." Eve could feel her heart thumping. "So the great Professor is just a little boy at heart." "Aren't most men?" answered Guinevere with a smile. "I mean, I could tell you some things," she continued. "But I shouldn't." Eve felt vaguely ashamed, but couldn't help herself. "I don't want to pry. Totally up to you." Guinevere took another sip of tea. "Behind that worldly exterior he's kind of innocent, really. Deep down he's a shy little boy." Eve listened intently. "He used to love it when I took charge. You know, when I seduced him. I think he's so inside his own head, he needed to be brought out. To be led." The Mentor Ch. 03 Guinevere again looked at her tea. Her voice softer now, confessional. "I remember one of the greatest time we ever had together, you know, in the sack, was after we'd seen this French film. I can't remember the name. The woman character seduces the man by pleasuring herself in front of him. That night, I did the same for him. He got so incredibly turned on. Just watching me. He said I was never more beautiful in his eyes." She looked out the window, wistfully. "That was a long time ago." Eve had a million questions but decided to just sit back and listen, keeping track of every detail. * * * * * * The next morning, Eve was busy packing boxes in her dorm room when her cell phone chirped. "I'm back. I need to see you." It was Prof. Michaels. He sounded serious, even ominous. She hoped she hadn't done something wrong. "Is everything okay?" "I just need to see you. In person. I have something I have to tell you. Can you come by the house?" Eve thought a moment. She hadn't eaten dinner yet. She needed to grab some food, and then change. "How's eight o'clock? I'll bring the keys to the house." "Perfect. See you then." Eve stood in front of the mirror, thinking about what to wear. She had a sense that this last night with Michaels was going to be momentous, in one way or another. She decided to wear her "good" underwear, the sexy pair from Victoria's Secret, with a sheer cotton blouse and her tightest fitting jeans. She always dressed well when she was visiting Michaels, not that it did any good. It did make her feel more confident though. Walking to his house, she thought about Guinevere's visit and the conversation they'd had. Was that why he wanted to talk? She wondered what she'd told him. Eve hoped she hadn't done something wrong. * * * * * * The rain began twenty minutes after she'd started walking to Michaels' house. She was running late and had forgotten her umbrella. She thought about turning back but by then she'd she had come too far. It's June. Since when does it rain in June? She thought about calling Michaels to ask if he'd pick her up but decided not to. He's got enough on his mind right now. As she turned onto Michaels street, the rain really started coming down. It pelted the ground relentlessly. Eve was completely soaked. She rang the doorbell, standing on the steps dripping wet. The door opened. Michaels, dressed in khakis and a long sleeved shirt, looked at her. Her blouse was clinging to her body. Her full breasts were almost completely visible through her cotton blouse. Her nipples were erect from the cold. "You poor thing. You should have called me." He took her arm and ushered her inside. "Oh, Eve, you're soaked to the skin," he said sympathetically. "What were you thinking?" Eve shuddered. She wasn't that cold, really, but she let her teeth chatter anyway. "I'll be f-f-fine. Maybe if you got me t-t-towel." She hugged herself with her arms, pressing her breasts to her chest. "Of course," he said, concerned. "Better yet, I'll draw you a bath." He led her up the stairs to the master bathroom. It was all-white, with an old fashioned tub with clawed feet. He reached down to turn on the hot water, feeling the flow for the change in temperature. Eve started to kick off her shoes. Is he going to bathe me? Could this be it? The water was flowing hot now. He mixed in the cold until it was just right. He turned to look at her. She was facing away from him, peeling off her wet jeans. Nothing stood between him and her round ass but a lacy red thong. "Um, you'll need some fresh towels," he said, hesitantly. He went to cabinet and pulled down two carefully folded bath towels. When he turned back to her, she was starting to peel off the soaking wet blouse, her back still to him. As she slowly lifted the fabric, he could see her slightly swayed back, her slender waist, her tawny skin. She arched her back, struggling to remove her shirt, causing her ass to reach outward, towards him. "Could you help me please," she asked in a quiet voice. She had her elbows in the air, her blouse half way off. "Of course," he said, moving behind her. Tentatively, he took the hem of her blouse in each hand, gently grazing her hands. She lifted her arms into the air. Slowly, he lifted the blouse. The wet, white fabric peeled off her skin revealing the light brown skin underneath. He carefully lifted it off her shoulders, taking care not to pull her hair, and over her head. Once it was free, she turned to face him, her arms still in the air. "Thank you." Her raised arms caused her full breasts to sit high. The sheer, wet bra was practically transparent and he could clearly see the pink outline of her nipples. They strained against the lacy fabric, pointing up, towards his face. He took in her breasts and then her emerald cat eyes. "I ... I ..." he muttered. "Yes," she asked, innocently. He glanced at the blouse he still held in his hands. "I ... should put these in the drier." Eve watched him as he picked up her jeans from the floor and left, closing the door behind him. Eve, standing in her bra and panties, stared at the door, frowning. Can't a guy take a hint? She unclasped her bra, slipped off her panties, and stepped into the bath. The warm water caressed her body and she sunk down so the heat rose to the level of her neck. She looked at her body under the shimmering water. I do have a good body, dammit. What did David say my breasts were? Oh yeah. "Epic." She was giving herself a pep talk, trying to boost her confidence. She thought about Guinevere and their conversation. Look at the woman he married. She defines glamour. What a letdown I must be! She looked and her breasts rising above the water line like two islets. Her nipples were standing up. She brushed her fingers lightly over her breasts, rolling the nipples between her fingers. She felt the familiar tingling between her legs. What was it that Guinevere said? That he liked young women with big breasts? Surely he'd like these breasts. And these nipples. When they get big like this. She thought about his handsome face pressed against her bosom. She squeezed her nipple between her fingers imagining it was his mouth. The other hand slipped between her legs. He could suck mine if he wanted to. I'd let him suck as much as he wanted. Mmmm, I want him to suck me so badly. Her eyes were closed and she was squeezing her nipple now, first one, then the other. Her other hand was fingering her labial lips. I'd do anything he wanted. Anything to please him. He could have me any way he wanted. I'd be his sex slave. She was rubbing her clit now, her eyes squeezed tight. She was imagining him taking her. On that big bed of his. Forcing her to do things, nasty things. Positions that she'd never even imagined. Things that turned him on more than anything. Just then there was a knock on the door. She froze. "Yes," she said. The door opened slightly and she could see him lean in, averting his eyes. "You'll need to wear something while your clothes dry. I brought you this." He laid a silk robe on the bathroom counter. "Oh. OK." Don't stop there. Come in. Join me in the bath. "I guess I'll see you downstairs." "Sounds good. Thanks." He closed the door. She didn't know how much more rejection she could take. * * * * * Walking down the stairway, Eve could feel the silk robe sliding over skin. Her body was still tingling from the bath. From thinking about him and touching herself. Her full breasts pressed against the satiny fabric, the nipples clearly visible. He was in the living room, poking at the fire. He turned at looked at her. "Sorry to take so long. I took the liberty of using your hair drier." He had pulled two easy chairs closer to the fireplace. "I thought a fire would be nice. To help warm you up." Eve slinked onto one of the chairs, her legs curled beneath her. "Oh, I'm pretty warm from the bath." She lifted the edge of the silk robe as if to let the air cool her. He looked at her a moment and then sat in the easy chair next to hers. "Listen, Eve" he said seriously. "The reason I had to talk to you...it has to do with your story. 'Bittersweet'." She was a bit taken aback. She hadn't seen this coming. "My story?" Michaels leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "When I was in New York, I was having dinner with my editor at Penguin. She mentioned they were starting a new imprint, called Millennium Press. It's targeted to a younger audience. Anyway, she said they were looking for talented young writers for a collection of short stories. I told her about you and 'Bittersweet' and..." Eve sat in rapt attention. "And?" she said. "And, I had it on my laptop so I gave it to her on a thumb drive." "You gave it to her." "I told her you were a student of mine, and an extraordinary young writer. That you'd written insightfully about a young woman coming of age, exploring her sexuality in a complex ethical situation. She was intrigued and wanted to read it. I hope you don't mind." "Mind? Are you kidding? Of course not." "I'm glad you feel that way. I felt like I had to strike while the iron was hot. Anyway, here's the thing -- I got a text when I was boarding the plane at JFK. They want to publish it." Eve sat in stunned silence. "What?" she asked incredulously. "They want to include your story in an anthology of the year's best short stories by young American authors. Eve, you're going to be published. You'd better start shopping for an agent." A huge smile swept across Eve's face. She leapt from the chair and gave him an enormous hug, squeezing him tightly. He was sitting in the easy chair and she was bent over him. She held him, her face nuzzled against his neck. "That's... unbelievable. I don't know what to say. I'm so grateful." "It's not me, Eve. It's entirely you. You earned it." Her head was spinning. She could smell him, feel his soft curly hair against her face. It made her feel drunk. Please. Reach your hands under my robe. I want you to touch me. After a prolonged moment, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Thank you," she said simply. He looked from one eye to another. This is it. He's going to kiss me. "I...I thought we should celebrate with a little champagne. Interested?" "Of course," she answered. He slipped out from under her and headed to the kitchen. She slumped into his chair. What the hell is wrong with me? She could hear the refrigerator open and close and the tinkling of glasses. A cork popped. The sound of champagne pouring. Wait a minute ... What did she say? He likes to be led. To be seduced. Of course. How could I be so stupid? He came back in the room holding an ice bucket and two champagne glasses. He stopped in his tracks. She had pulled the two easy chairs back to their original positions and the was laying a throw rug from the couch in front of the hearth. Most dramatically, the light had been turned off. The fire was providing the only illumination in the room. Eve sat on the blanket in front of the fire. Her blonde hair and long legs glowed in the firelight. "I thought this would be more comfortable. You know, picnic-style." "Oh," he said, hesitating a moment. "Good idea." He sat next to her, placing the bottle and the glasses on the floor. After pouring both glasses, he handed one to her and raised his to toast. "To a great new voice in contemporary fiction." He smiled and held her eyes as they sipped their champagne. "I can hardly believe it," Eve said. "I've dreamt of this moment for a long, long time." "It's a remarkable achievement," he said, nodding. "And a tremendous validation of your talent. I had no doubt that you'd make it, Eve. It was just a matter of getting your work in the right hands." "And I have you to thank for that. But look at you, you're still in your work clothes. Don't you want to take your shoes off at least?" He looked down at his shoes. "I haven't had a chance to change since my flight." He reached down to untie his shoes. She stopped him. "Here, you must be tired. Let me help you." She knelt at his feet and untied his shoe, slowly slipping it off. Then she slipped off his sock. She was on her knees and the top of her breasts her clearly visible beneath the silk robe. She removed the other shoe and sock. "How do you feel from your trip? Tired? Here. Let me rub your shoulders." She slipped behind him and began to knead his broad shoulders. "That feels nice," he murmured. "You know, I had to wait 'til I was thirty before I was published. How old are you?" "Mmmm, old enough. Don't you worry about that. Does that feel good?" "Oh, yeah. That feels fantastic. You're a talented woman, Eve." "Oh, yes. I've got many hidden talents, I assure you," she purred. "Here," she said reaching around him from behind to unbutton his shirt. "But you have to take this off. You cannot have a back rub with a shirt on. It simply doesn't work." He seemed hesitant, but she continued unbuttoning his shirt. He could feel her full breasts brushing against his back. "That's it. Just slip it off. Doesn't the fire feel wonderful?" She had slipped his shirt off revealing his broad back and taut shoulders. Eve began to slowly massage his bare shoulders. "Mmmm, that does feel good," he murmured. "Good. Just try and relax." She pressed her fingers into his muscles of his shoulders, his neck, his arms. He was letting out low moans. "Why don't you lay down on your stomach. Then I can do your whole back." She slowly pushed him down to the floor and kneeled beside him. She pushed the heel of her hands into his back from his lower back to his shoulders. She worked her way down his back, making circles with his fingertips. After giving his back a thorough rubbing, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Turn over. I'll do the other side." When he rolled over on his back, he could see her kneeling beside him. The belt of her robe was loosened, and it had fallen open ever so slightly. He could see the edges of her full breasts. Her hair was thick and partially covering one eye. Her hands slid along his flat stomach, over his pecs, and up to his shoulders. Her fingers glided over his breasts and along each side of his torso. He was watching her as she leaned forward and back, pressing her hands into his flesh. "Whew," she purred. "Is it getting warm in here or is just me." Her hands were moving up and down his body, massaging his shoulders and chest with deep, sensuous strokes. "It's almost too warm" she said. She sat up and looked at him with a sly expression. She lowered the robe so it was off each of her shoulders. The top of her full breasts were bathed in firelight. She looked ravishing. "Mmmm, that feels better" she sighed. "Are you okay?" she asked in a sexy voice. "You're not ... uncomfortable?" "I'm fine. Why?" "I thought maybe you were uncomfortable because of the fact that I'm ... you know ... naked under this robe." "Uh...not at all," he muttered. "I mean, you ARE my student..." "Former student," she said, correcting him. "I graduated, remember?" "Of course," he nodded. "My former student." "I'm glad you feel comfortable. Then you won't mind if I just ... take this off." She let the robe fall entirely off her body, revealing two gorgeous, melon-sized breasts. She swung her leg over him so she was straddling him. She arched her back slightly, her breasts pressing upward, her nipples reaching up and out. She lowered herself until she was pressed against his crotch. She could feel his bulge pressing against her pussy. "Do you like my breasts?" she asked, breathily. "Oh, yes," he growled. "They're exquisite." "I'm so glad," she cooed. "I like it when you look at them." She ran her fingers lightly along the underside of her breasts, and then let them brush over the nipples. She could feel his cock hardening beneath her. "You know, they're really, really sensitive. When I touch them, like this ... it makes me really hot." She played with both nipples with her fingers. She rocked her pelvis, rubbing her pussy against his cock. "You know what I've always wanted to do?" she asked. "What's that?" She leaned forward to pick up her glass of champagne. Her full breasts hung down and ever so slightly brushed against his muscled chest. She sat up again with a sly expression on her face, her glass of champagne in one hand. "Can I offer you a sip of champagne?" she asked. He nodded. Slowly, she moved the glass above her breast and poured a stream of the golden liquid on the top of her breast so it slowly trickled over her nipple. She leaned forward and brought her nipple to his mouth, brushing it against his lips. He opened his lips and let the champagne trickle into his mouth. "Mmmmmm, that feels good," she whispered. "But you need more than that." She poured a second stream of the icy champagne over her other breast and brought her nipple to his mouth. He drank it hungrily, straining for the nipple. She sat up, her moist breasts shining in the firelight. He was staring at her nipples which were standing out from the chill. "You know what I want? I want to celebrate. I want to do all the things I love to do. Do you want to know what I love?" He nodded again. "I love the thought of a man suckling my breasts. It's one of my favorite things in the whole world. It turns me on so much. Would you mind sucking them?" "Of course...." he answered, gulping. She slowly lowered her nipples to his face, brushing them over his lips. He reached for them, hungrily. She lifted them out of reach, teasing him. "C'mon baby, take it in your mouth." He lunged for the breast again. "Shhhh, baby," she cooed. "Let me help you." She supported her breast with her hand and guided her nipple to his mouth. He took it between his lips, letting the tongue slide over the velvety flesh. "That's it," she moaned. "That's it, now suck it, baby. That's right. Suck my breast." He wrapped his soft lips around her hard nipple and sucked it vigorously. His tongue pressed it against the roof of his mouth, his eyes shut tight. "Oh, God, that feels so good," she moaned. She could see his cock was getting long and hard. She was beyond wet. "I think the other one's getting jealous," she said, breathing heavily. "You better give it some attention." "We can't have that, can we?" he muttered. She guided the other breast to his waiting mouth and pressed it against his face. His tongue and lips worked the nipple ravenously. "Mmmmmm," she cooed. "That feels so good. Oh dear, look how big you've made my nipples." It was true. Her nipples were erect now, like ripe grapes reaching out from her pendulous breasts. She looked down and noticed the entire head of his cock was now reaching above his pants. She reached down and began to slowly unfasten his belt, her voice soft, hypnotic. "I've wanted this for so long. From the first time I met you. I wanted you to do this that first day." She slowly unzipped his pants and peeled them back. She pulled his pants and boxer shorts down and off his legs. His cock and balls look big and full. She started to stroke them softly. He let out a deep moan. "Do you remember when I first came to your office? I was wearing that sheer white blouse. And that short skirt. I wanted to do this. Right then and there. I was so wet. Thinking about it." He moaned again and she could feel his cock throbbing in her hand. She lowered her breast to his mouth and he began sucking her nipple hard. She cupped her fingers and slid them over his hard-on, stroking the tender underside, stretching the skin gently back. He was rock hard. The Mentor Ch. 03 Her voice was a whisper now. "And when you told me to go home and work on my story, you know what I did? I went home and touched myself. Thinking about you. That's right. You and me. Together. Doing this. And I was so wet. Laying in my bed. Playing with myself. I don't think I've ever been so wet. Can I show you?" He stopped sucking and looked up at her. "What?" "I want to show you. How I touched myself that day. Can I?" He gulped again. "Yes, I want you to." His voice was simple and direct. Innocent. She raised herself up. He took in the sight of her body, aglow in the firelight. Her back was arched, her full breasts sitting high, her nipples erect and upturned. Her thighs were splayed, revealing a glistening pussy, newly shaved and impossibly wet. She brought two fingers to her mouth, and wrapped her lips around them. All the while, her eyes were fixed on his. Slowly, she lowered her fingers to her pussy and started to slowly run then along the swollen lips. She slipped them inside the hot wetness. It was the relief she'd longed for. It felt so good. "I thought about you kissing my breasts. Licking them and sucking them. It made me so turned on, so wet." He watched her intently, without blinking. She slowly lowered herself so that her pussy pressed against his hard cock. She felt so warm and wet against him. As her fingers found her clit, her eyelids closed to half mast. Her hips began to undulate, sliding her pussy along the length of his shaft. She'd wanted this for so long. He watched her fingers disappear into the slit and then slide over the clitoris. Again and again. She tilted back and let out a long moan. "I thought about you touching me. Your hands on my body. On my skin." She took his hand in hers and placed it on the velvety skin of her hip. His other hand found her other hip which continued to rock in a slow, sexy motion. "Feeling my ass. Barely touching my skin. Electric." His actions followed her words, lightly touching her round ass, sending shivers through her body. "And taking my breasts in your hands. Squeezing them." He did as he was told. Her fingers continued to massage her pussy lips, sliding up and down, and over her clitoris, while she slid back and forth against his rock hard cock. "Ohhh, yes. And pinching my nipples. Hard. Yes, like that. Ohhhhh." She was working her pussy with both hands now, her arms pressing her pendulous breasts together. Beneath her, his fully erect cock was completely covered in her wetness. "And touching my wet pussy. Oh, God. Feel how wet I am." She took his hand from her breast and pressed it against her pussy. It was dripping wet. She held his hand in hers and started to rub her clit with the pads of his fingers. "Mmmmm. That feels so good. And then I'd make myself come. Thinking about you touching me. Putting your fingers inside me. Put them in me now." He brought his other hand to her pussy and pressed his fingers inside her. She let out a long moan as he penetrated her. It was the tightest, wettest pussy he had ever felt. "Ohhhhh, I'd come so hard. With you touching me." She was holding his fingers against her clit, rubbing it like a vibrator. With his other hand, he pressed first two, then three fingers into her pussy, pushing them in and out like a hard cock fucking her. Her body began to shudder. "Yes...Yes...Oh God...Oh...Yes...Yes...Don't stop." Her body was bucking now as he fingered her with both hands. He watched her, spellbound. She was so responsive. So in tuned with her body. So uninhibited. While one hand kept rubbing her clit, she brought the other hand back to find her ass. She led the tip of his index finger, glistening with her juices, into her tight hole. As he slipped it inside her, the sensation was too much. Her orgasm peaked and she cried out as it sweep over her like a creating wave. She fell forward, her body pressed against his, her mouth next to his ear. He could feel her breath, hot and panting, her breasts heaving against his chest. She had wanted to seduce him. To show him she wasn't the prudish, inhibited undergrad that first walked into his office those many months ago. She was a woman, a confident, assertive, adventurous woman who was in touch with her own sexuality. Her intention was to turn him on, to make him want her. Instead she had ignited a sexual passion in herself she had never known before. In the process of living out what she thought was his fantasy, she had lived out her own, and experienced the greatest orgasm of her life. Oh God, I hope I didn't blow it. She slowly lifted herself up to look at him. His chest was rising and lowering as if he, too, was breathing hard. She looked down to see his cock, still hard and still pointing straight up to his chest. A dollop of precum pooled at the tip. "Wow," she whispered. "You made me come so hard. That was incredible." He looked deeply in her eyes. "You were incredible. You are an extraordinary woman, Eve." "You're an extraordinary man. And now, I want to do something extraordinary for you. What shall it be, hmmm?" A knowing smile crept over his lips. "You're the newly published writer. Use your imagination." She gave him a playful shove. "Not fair. I told you my secrets. And I had the greatest orgasm ever. Now I want to return the favor." She sat up, beside him, and looked at his naked body. Seeing him fully naked for the first time, gazing up at her with those brilliant, beautiful eyes, made her heart flutter. His body was long and lean, fit, with a beautiful, golden rod laying against his stomach. "What shall it be, then? What's your fantasy?" He smiled and arched his eyebrows. "I know this will sound like a cop out, but your fantasy was my fantasy." Of course it was. That was by design. "Well, that works out nicely, doesn't it?" she laughed. "But surely you must have another one. Something you always wanted to do but were afraid to ask?" She smiled playfully, sitting on her haunches, her knees spread. He looked at her, her blond hair full and disheveled, her gorgeous round breasts, her glistening pussy. "I must say," he answered. "The imagination runs wild with possibilities." She looked down at him, smiling, laying on his back, his cock pointing straight up towards his face. Remember, he likes to be led. "You know, when I was writing my story, I'd imagine the things my characters might do. You know--research. I'd imagine things I'd like to do. With you." She moved next to him and lowered herself until he could feel her warm breath on the skin of his stomach. She kissed him gently, then again, moving down his body. Her gaze never left his. "I'd fantasize about you and me. Like this. Kissing you. Licking you. Making you hard." She could see his cock raise and lower as it throbbed. "I thought about how I'd use my tongue...and my mouth...on your cock. It's true. I fantasized about licking your cock. Softly. Like this." She glided her tongue along the length of his shaft, slowly, ending at the tip. "Do you want to know more?" "Oh, God yes," he replied. She smiled. "Good. Cause it really makes me hot. I would think about tickling you, with my tongue, right below the head, like this. " She flicked his tender underside with the tip of her tongue then circled over the tip, again and again. He moaned aloud. She could see his cock growing bigger in front of her eyes. "And I'd imagine standing your cock up like this, and licking it, and kissing it. Up and down. While I stroke it." His body was squirming now. She could see him licking his lips. Grunting. "And then, I'd make my lips super-soft...and wet...just like my pussy. And I'd take you into my mouth. Caressing you with my lips. And my tongue." She slowly lowered her mouth so that the tip spread her moist lips. The head popped into her mouth just like a tight pussy. Her tongue slid over the head, sending electrical shocks through his body. It felt like heaven. She released him with a smacking sound. "I'd let you fuck my mouth. My warm, wet mouth. Just like it was a pussy. My warm, wet pussy." She licked her lips and made them full and let the tip press inside, spreading her. Then she swallowed him deeper. Sliding her velvety, wet lips halfway dow the shaft. In and out he went. As if he were fucking the warmest, wettest, tightest pussy ever. He let out a guttural moan. She released him, sounding out of breath. She was still stroking him. He was rock hard. "And then I'd take you all the way in. Deep in my throat. I don't know if I can. But I want to try. Do you want me to?" "Oh, yeah," he growled in a low tone. She hovered over the glistening cock, spread her lips, her eyes fixed on his, and lowered down on the head and shaft. Deeper and deeper she took him. When she had him halfway inside her, she hesitated, then closed her eyes. He watched as she slowly took him all the way into her throat. It was so nasty watching her swallow him, the way it spread her lips, that it took every bit of willpower to keep from exploding his cum deep in her throat then and there. When she finally released him, she was gasping for air. "Wow," she panted. "That's a first for me. You are one big man." "And you are one incredible woman. I had no idea." She lay next to him, catching her breath. "But you haven't even come yet. I wanted to live your fantasy. To give you the best orgasm you've ever had." "We've got all night for that," he answered softly. They were laying on their sides, their faces a foot apart. "But what can I do. I want to make it special for you." He touched her lips gently with his fingers. "It will always be special. Because it's you." Eve felt a warm glow permeate through her body. How she'd longed to hear those words. "You know what I wanted to do to you from that first day I met you?" She looked at him earnestly. "Yes. More than anything." "This." He slowly leaned into her, cocked his head, and brought his lips to hers. He brushed them gently, then harder. His tongue darted out and found hers, dancing together. Their kiss seemed to last for an eternity. She felt such a deep and abiding love for him at that moment. "And this." He moved atop her, bracing himself on his elbows. His eyes, brown and soulful, looked into hers as she felt his body press against hers. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. He worked his way down, slowly, to her tummy, to her hips and to her thighs and knees. He kissed her feet, holding them gently as if they were some rare relic. Then he started to work his way up her body. His eyes and hers were locked as he kissed the inside of her legs, first one then the other. Higher and higher, he kissed and nibbled, using his tongue to tease and tickle her. She was watching him, with his strong shoulders and thick shock of curly hair. All she could think about was the moment when his mouth would reach her pussy. He blew gently on her swollen pussy. But he didn't touch it. He spread her legs wider and then got a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Do you want to know what I thought about when you were sitting in my classroom?" He was playing her game now. "Yes," she answered breathlessly. His was hovering above her aching pussy. She could feel his breath. "As you sat there with your short skirt and high heels. Writing your brilliant words. You thought I was sitting at my desk, engrossed in my own work. But I wasn't. I secretly looking at you. Looking at your beautiful legs. And your beautiful body. Thinking about the sweetness that lay between your legs." Eve shuddered with excitement. Was it true? Did he want her like that? From the beginning? "I wanted to make myself invisible and creep up on my hands and knees. I'd ever so slowly pull down your panties. No one would know. And you'd spread your legs for me." Yes, this is exactly what she wanted too. More than anything. Eve spread her legs wide for him. "Do you want me to taste you, Eve? Hmmm? To lick you with my tongue? Do you want me to eat your beautiful pussy?" He blew lightly on her swollen pussy lips. Her body shook with excitement. "Yes!!!" she moaned, arching her back and tilting her head back. She felt electricity shooting through her body she was so excited. "Then I want to hear it. I want you to beg for it. And I want to hear you come." It didn't take much for Eve to beg. She wanted it that badly. "Oh, I want you to lick my pussy. I want it so fucking bad. Please. Put your tongue in me." Her body bucked and she raised her pelvis up, bringing her dripping wet pussy to his face. But he didn't relent. He pressed her hips back down to the floor. "I'm sorry. Were you talking to me?" "Oh Brett. Don't do this to me! I need it so bad! Lick me, dammit! I want you to fuck me with your tongue! Please! I want you to fuck my fucking pussy with your fucking tongue! Now!" With that, he smiled and gave her pussy a long, deep lick. She let out a deep, animalistic moan, her body writhing. He went to work on her with a vengeance, tonguing and nibbling her. He pushed his tongue as deep as it would go, amazed at how tight her pussy was. He found her clit and sucked it between his lips. Her orgasm came fast and hard. Throughout, she was moaning, and cursing, and intoning him to continue. "Fuck yes! Oh! Fuck! Yes! Give me your fucking tongue! Oh!" By the time he began flicking her clit with his tongue, she was screaming. When her orgasm finally subsided, he lifted himself up, his eyes on fire. He gathered her up in his strong arms and stood, holding her in his arms before the fireplace. "That was so amazing," she gasped, her head spinning. "Where are we going?" "To the bedroom." He carried her in up the stairs to the master bedroom. Her head was still spinning from the intense pleasure she'd just experienced. Being whisked through the air in his arms just added to the sensation. He laid her gently on the bed and she looked up at him. This brilliant, handsome, naked man looking down on her with such desire. She felt electricity coursing through her body. "What are your intentions, kind sir?" she asked with a sly look in her eyes. He smiled wryly. "I intend to make love to the newest voice in American literature." He moved to her, his lips on hers, his hands caressing her body. She was tingling all over. She felt like a live wire, electric. Everything seemed to be swirling. "I'll do anything you want," she gasped. "Anything." "Anything?" he answered, playfully. He was sliding his finger into her still wet pussy. "Oh, yes. Anything." She was panting now. "What is it you want?" "I told you. I want to make love to the hot new author on the literary scene. And I do mean hot." "I want that too. I want to feel you come inside me. Deep inside me." "Shall I wear a condom?" "I'm on the pill." She paused. "I'm okay without a condom. I don't want anything between us. Ever." "OK," he said softly. He was laying atop her, between her legs, face to face. He guided the head of his cock to her pussy and slowly pushed it inside her. She was incredibly warm, wet and tight. She let out a gasp. "You okay?" he asked, softly. "Yes...you just feel so...good." He slowly pressed his pelvis forward and slid his long cock inside her. She felt like a velvet vise around his hard cock. "Ohhhh," she cried out. He rocked his hips again and slid himself further inside her. She tilted her head back and let out a long moan. Again, he slowly thrust his cock inside her. This time, to the hilt. "Oh, fuck!" she shouted. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel!" She wrapped her legs around his back, her arms around his neck. Once more, he pumped his cock into her. She lifted her pelvis to meet his. They began to move together, in perfect unison, like they'd been fucking each other their whole lives. He raised himself on his hands, and pulled her legs over his shoulders. He pressed his cock deep inside her and started rotating his hips. "Yes, do that!" she cried out, her voice desperate. He thrust into her again, this time rubbing her clit with his pubic bone. "Mmmmm, that's good. Like that." He started to thrust into her, quickly, over and over. Lightning strikes. Then he slowed and rubbed against her clitoris again. "Ohhhhh, God. That makes me want to come. Ohhhh, I'm going to come again." "I want to watch you," he said. "I want you on top of me." His voice was dark, commanding. She liked it. It excited her. He rolled over, pulling her on top of him. She sat up, facing him. She could feel him deep inside her. She looked incredible. Her full, blond hair cascaded to her shoulders. Her body was flush. Her nipples rosy and extended. He looked down to see the base of his thick cock spreading her lips. He held her by the hips and slowly pulled her down onto his cock. "Ohhhhh," she cried, her voice ragged and breathy. "You're so ...fucking... deep. I can't believe how deep you are." He watched her intently as he slowly raised his hips in air, going deeper still. "My God!" she cried. "You're going to split me in two!" He kept his pelvis raised up in the air, high. Her hands were on his rippled stomach, her mouth open. "You like it?" he smiled. "So much," she gasped. "You don't even know." He began to slowly raise and lower his pelvis, rotating his hips. Massaging her insides. "Ohhhhh," she moaned. "Are you my sexy girl?" he growled. "Are you my brilliant, sexy, nasty girl?" She was whimpering now, so close to coming. "Oh yes. Yes." "Then touch yourself. Show me how nasty you are." She gave him a knowing, sexy look and brought both hands to her pussy. She spread her lips with one hand and rubbed her clit with the other. Her eyes were trained on his, her mouth open. He kept pumping his cock into her. Her orgasm came fast. And hard. He loved watching her give herself over to the rising pleasure, grinding against his hard cock. She was a picture of pure sexual abandon. She collapsed on his chest, spent. Her hands gripped his hard pecs. Still he was hard and long inside her. "You still haven't come yet. Here I've had...what...three, four orgasms. I've lost count for heavens sake. And you haven't even had one." He took her head in his hands, gazing into her eyes. "You know, I haven't had sex in a while. I want it to last. Besides, nothing turns me on more than to see you turned on." She embraced him, laying her face on his chest. "How long has it been? Since you made love?" He grazed his fingertips over her back. "I don't know. More than a year, I suppose." She was brushing her fingers over his nipple. "With your wife?" There was a pause. She wondered if she'd gone too far. "My soon to be ex-wife, to be exact. The divorce papers were filed last week." Eve lifted her head and looked at him earnestly. "I know. I was here when she brought them by. She told me." He brushed a lock of her hair from her face. "Yeah, I know. She sent me a message. She enjoyed meeting you. It seems you've gotten the Guinevere seal of approval." Eve looked from one eye to another. "Does it bother you? That we talked? About you?" "Hardly," he chuckled. "What good writer ever passes up a chance to do research?" She smiled, relieved to have gotten that out in the open. Sensitive. Confident. Sexy as hell. I think I'm in love with this man. "So, a whole year huh?" she asked, playfully. "You must be a horny old toad." He smiled, gripping her by the ass. "Who're you calling old, missy?" She smiled slyly. "Whatcha gonna do about it, huh? Take advantage of me?" The Mentor Ch. 04 The sun streamed in Liz' window and she slowly opened her eyes. She had slept very well and was eager to start a new day. She threw back the covers and walked naked into the bathroom. She emptied herself and then made coffee. She slipped back beneath the covers and as she sipped her coffee she planned her next move. She had senses the frustration and disappointment in Kelly's voice on the phone last night. She too was frustrated but she also knew that if Kelly was to be a long term lover, it would have to be Kelly's decision. Liz would play a waiting game believing that Kelly would give in and enter into a loving long term physical relationship with Liz. No, she would not call, not today. Kelly woke up frazzled. She had not slept well, tossing and turning, wondering if Liz was merely a one night stand. She replayed their conversation over and over again in her head looking for some hint in something Liz had said, but there was nothing. Kelly rose, took a quick shower, made coffee and then got the kids up for summer camp. Day turned into night and she was chagrined that she did not receive a phone call from Liz. Kelly went to sleep that night totally frustrated. There was an ache, an emptiness in the pit of her stomach and regions lower that caused her to think only of Liz. Her frustration had now turned to need and desire. She had to have Liz, but how. Obviously Liz was no longer interested in a loving relationship, perhaps not even as a friend. She had to know, she had to find out. She would invite Liz over for lunch and see what developed. Kelly rose and had planned to call Liz by nine a.m. But as the minutes slowly ticked by she called at eight-fifteen. Liz answered and was pleased that it was Kelly. She smiled to herself as Kelly made the luncheon invitation and said she couldn't make it for lunch. She heard the definite disappointment in Kelly's voice. There was a long pause when Kelly said, "The kids have some kind of special field trip today at summer camp and won't be home until nearly eight p.m. Could you come over for coffee at about two p.m.?" Liz paused and then said, "Yes I could squeeze in a quick visit at two p.m." Kelly didn't want a quick visit, but she thought that any visit was better than none. The two women hung up the phone and busied themselves. Liz would play it coy, not bringing up the other day. She wondered how long it would take for Kelly to crack. Or, maybe she had misread Kelly. Perhaps she didn't want a relationship. Liz quickly put that notion out of her mind. Kelly was a wreck. She wanted things to be perfect. She got the kids out the door and when everything was in place all she could do was wait. At two-ten the phone rang. Liz said she was running late and would be there as soon as she could. Kelly's frustration level rose even higher. It was nearly two-forty-five when the doorbell finally rang. She opened the door and to her relief it was Liz. Kelly was so relieve that she felt slightly light headed. She just looked at Liz for a moment and was brought back to reality when Liz finally said, "Well, are you going to invite me in?" The two women laughed and Kelly gave Liz a hug as she entered. Liz smiled to herself and followed Kelly into the family room. She took a seat on the couch as Kelly got the ice tea. She returned telling Liz that it was too hot for coffee so she had made the cold beverage. Kelly handed Liz a glass and sat down next to Liz on the couch. The heat began to rise between the two women. They could almost smell each other's arousal. They chatted about little things and Liz never even mentioned the other day. Kelly stuttered and stammered and then her knee touched Liz's knee. Liz just waited. She would not make the fist move. It had to be Kelly's play and Liz just waited. Liz had set her glass down and told Kelly that she really needed to get going. Kelly was distraught. She couldn't go another day so she leaned in and kissed Liz softly on the lips. It was a tender kiss, a sweet kiss, their lips slightly parted but no tongue play, not yet. Kelly broke the kiss and looked into Liz's eyes. "I have missed you so much." Liz smiled and the two women kissed again. Their arms went around each other and the two women's lips parted and tongues darted in and out. It was all Liz could do to keep her hands from fondling Kelly's breasts but she held back. Soon the breathing of both women increased and Kelly began to caress Liz's breasts. Liz sighed softly and Kelly began kissing Liz's throat while she unbuttoned the older woman's blouse. Kelly pushed the blouse off Liz's shoulders and she kissed along the tops of Liz's shoulders. At the same time her hands massaged Liz's breasts thorugh her bra. Liz decided that she would be the passive one and allow Kelly to be the aggressor. This way it would all be on Kelly and then she would have this woman for her lover. As the two women kissed Kelly unsnapped Liz's bra. She slid the bra down the older woman's arms and then cupped her breasts. She held them, as if weighing them. Her thumbs lightly stroked Liz's hardening nipples. Liz stroked Kelly's hair and sat back into the couch. Kelly leaned forward and took Liz's right nipple into her mouth. She nursed at the older woman's breast. Kelly was filled with emotion. She was not only sexually aroused, the dampness in her panties would testify to that, but there was also another feeling. It was a feeling of warmth and safety. Kelly imagined this is how an infant must feel as the babe nurses on her mother's breast. She felt content and peaceful, yet sexually charged. As Kelly now nursed on Liz's left breast Liz stroked Kelly's hair, like a mother would do to her child. Liz felt sexually charged but she also felt like a mother giving life and nourishment to her child. It was a soft and satisfying feeling. Kelly's hand slid down across the roundness of Liz's tummy and she cupped Liz's mound. Liz moaned and spread her legs to let Kelly in. She made deep circles around Liz's pussy and could feel both the heat and the warmth. Liz kept stroking Kelly's hair and telling the younger woman how good she felt. Kelly unzipped Liz's shorts and then undid the snap. Kelly moved off the couch and knelt in front of Liz. She reached down and took off one of Liz's sandals and kissed the older woman's instep. Kelly looked at Liz's foot and suddenly she was surprised to discover how sexy the foot was. She leaned over and began to lick each toenail as tough her tongue was putting on toenail polish. She then switched to other foot and began to suck on each toe. As Kelly did this she thought I wonder if when you are really in love with someone all of their body becomes sexually arousing. It struck Kelly then, that she did indeed love Liz and wanted to be her lover for years to come. Kelly lowered Liz's foot and looked up into the older woman's eyes. "How beautiful she is," Kelly thought. As she reached up and began to slide shorts and panties down Liz's legs Kelly said, "I love you." As the panties came off her feet, Liz pulled her legs up and put her heels on the edge of the couch. She spread legs wide and offering her flower to Kelly. As she did this she replied, "Oh Kelly, I love you." Without a moment's hesitation Kelly Leaned in and kissed her way up Liz's thighs. She could smell Liz's arousal emanating from her pussy. It drove Kelly on and finally she kissed the outer, swollen lips. Liz sighed and decided that it was time to go to heaven. She would focus on the feeling that Kelly's tongue was giving to her swollen clit and would take her pleasure now and tend to Kelly later. As Kelly's tongue swirled inside of Liz's pussy the older woman moaned. Her breathing became more ragged. She lightly twisted her own nipples as Kelly licked. Liz's hips began to move slightly up and down off the cushion and when Kelly licker her clit at the same time she put a finger in Liz's pussy Liz said, "Oh god, Kelly I love you so much." Kelly's tongue worked the swollen bud while her finger pressed away on the upper wall of Liz's pussy. Liz was in heaven. She was conflicted. She wanted the pleasure to continue but she wanted the release that only and orgasm could give. Now Liz's hips were rising and falling. She had made her decision; she would surrender to the orgasm and let it overtake her. There would be more pleasure, more orgasms with Kelly over time, but now she needed release. She lay her head back and let go totally. Her whole body was flushed and she was covered with a sheen of perspiration. She felt a warmth, no it was a heat radiating from her pussy to her tummy and down her thighs. Her pussy began to contract and her hips began to buck violently. Her toes curled and she felt a rush course through her pussy. She felt an overwhelming heat as her pussy ejaculated fluid into Kelly's face. Kelly was momentarily stunned but kept licking and swallowing. This liquid was from the woman she loved. It had to be wonderful and she wanted it. She was a little bit of Liz her own body, something she could carry with her in her tummy. Liz cried out as she came and then the feeling began to subside. Her breathing returned to normal and she began to relax. She smiled down at Kelly and Kelly rose to kiss her. The two women kissed and Liz could taste herself. The two women broke the kiss and just held each other. Kelly looked at Liz and said, "Darling, words cannot describe how much I love you. I don't really want this to end. I don't suppose that you would consider spending the night?" Liz stroked her cheek and said, "I packed a bag and it's out in the car." The Mentor Ch. 04 I suggest you read the earlier chapters of this story first. ************* "Oh god," I thought, "I can't believe this. Where is it going to end?" Here I was, bent over the back of the sofa in Professor Susan Bascom's hotel suite, naked from the waist down, with Susan's graduate student Laura standing nearby watching me. And to my horror, when Susan opened the door to the bedroom of the suite, I couldn't believe who walked out. "Yes, Bob, we both decided that you needed a little more training in the appropriate way to treat women, didn't we, hon?" Susan said to the newcomer. I just stared at the two of them, unbelieving at what I was seeing. The incredulity must have shown in my face, because I heard Susan say, "What's wrong, Bob? I thought you'd be happy to see Sarah here. Don't you miss her?" Yes, I missed my wife, but the last thing I wanted was for her to be witnessing this. All I could think was, "What the hell is she doing here?" Sarah had a little smile on her face and hadn't said a word yet, but continued to stand next to Susan who had an even bigger shit-eating grin on her face. I finally managed to mumble, "Sarah, what are you doing here?" Before she could say anything, Susan answered for her. "Well, Bob, after our little encounter in the women's room the other night, I decided that you really did need more training than I had provided to you. What you need is what we call in the academic world, better 'mentoring' -- somebody who can help you learn appropriate mores and etiquette, the right way to act around your superiors, especially women." She turned to Laura and asked, "You understand these things, don't you, pet? You know the right way to act around me because I've been a good mentor to you, haven't I?" Laura quickly answered, "Oh yes, Professor Bascom, you've mentored me very well." "Good, pet, and I've figured out that it is exactly that kind of training that Professor Arnold here needs, right Bob?" I stared over at her and Sarah, still not believing my wife was standing there as a party to this encounter. "I said, right Bob?" Susan said to me in a slightly louder voice. "Yes, Su -- I mean, yes Professor Bascom," I replied. As I said this, I saw Sarah cock an eyebrow for a second. I'm sure the shock of her seeing me almost naked like this on the couch was one thing, but hearing my verbal subservience to Susan was another. "That's right, Bob, and Sarah is going to help me to train you." With that she grabbed Sarah's hand and the two of them walked over to me. I looked back over my shoulder at Sarah. She was wearing a pair of gray slacks and a plum-colored silk blouse. She too was somewhat plump, not unlike Susan, and her blouse nicely showed off her ample breasts. As they stood next to me, I began to rise up from the couch, but before I got too far, I heard Susan say, "No, Bob, you can stay right where you are." But this time I chose to ignore her. I had had enough, with Sarah here in the room I knew I had to bring the whole thing to a halt. "No, Susan -- I am getting up, I need to talk to Sarah." As I continued to rise up, I felt a hand on the back of my head, pushing me back down. I was about to swat Susan's hand away, but as I glanced that way, I saw it was not Susan's hand that was pushing me down, but Sarah's. Surprised and confused, I allowed her to push me back down so that my head was again resting on the back of the couch. "What's going on, Sarah?" I asked her. "I'm sorry, Bob, but I agree with Susan. I want you to stay there and listen to me," she said. I didn't say anything, signaling my acquiescence. Sarah continued, "When Susan called me the other evening, and explained to me what had happened, at first I didn't believe her. She told me everything, from how you followed her and Laura into the bathroom, to what happened when she discovered you there, to what she did to you." As Sarah started to describe her conversation with Susan, I became a bit wary. Sarah and I had a very active sex life, and we had engaged in numerous types of roleplaying, including some dominance and submission play. And we had been on again and off again swingers, so we certainly weren't prudes in any way. But never had we -- or I -- done anything like what had happened to me in that women's restroom in the hotel two nights ago. So I was not quite sure how she was going to react to what she had heard about. I was also surprised at what was turning out to be a level of familiarity between Susan and Sarah that I hadn't known had existed. I knew they had occasionally e-mailed with each other, and had met a couple of times when Sarah accompanied me to conferences, but didn't think it went beyond that. "Because I didn't believe her," Sarah continued, "Susan offered to e-mail me one of the pictures, and I took her up on her offer. Needless to say, when I received it I was shocked to see that she was telling the truth. I just didn't want to believe you'd do something so risky, Bob. So when I called Susan back after I got her e-mail, we had a long chat about how we should proceed. She suggested that I fly out and join her here, and that the two of us could deal with it together. So I did, and here I am." With that she, gave me a little smile, and I knew that I was sunk. Any thought that she would help me to talk sense into Susan's head went right out of my mind as I realized that she was apparently in this just as much as Susan was. I now had to deal not just with Susan's wrath, and what she had planned for me, but now also had to worry about Sarah's participation. Now it was Susan's turn to chime in again. "Very well explained, Sarah. So you see, Bob, that's why your dear wife is here with us right now, so she can help me mentor you in the appropriate way to behave around women. So are you ready to begin?" I sighed, and simply answered, "Yes, if we must." Susan glared at me once again, showing her disapproval. I immediately knew what she wanted, and quickly replied, "Yes, ma'am, I am ready to begin." Susan smiled once again, and said to Sarah, "See, dear, it really is quite easy once you have them trained a bit. Now, let's see, how do we want to start?" She hesitated for a few seconds, and I just lay there over the back of the couch, fretting over exactly what she was going to do. After a few moments, Susan said, "Laura, pet, come over here please." I turned my head the other way to look over at Laura as she came back toward me. Susan saw me look, however, and as Laura came nearby, she said to her, "Do me a favor, pet. Get my scarf from the bedroom." "Yes, ma'am," Laura replied, and I saw her walk into the other room. A few seconds later, I heard Laura pad quietly across the carpet to a spot behind me. Susan said to her, "Okay, pet, now tie it around Bob's head -- we don't want him getting distracted by watching everything." I felt Laura kneel on the couch, and then felt the cool silk over my eyes as she tied the scarf tightly around my head. I was now enveloped in darkness, which only helped to heighten all my other senses. "Okay, now we'll get started. So here's what we're going to do Bob. To start your training in the appropriate way to appreciate women, we're going to spank you. And your job is to tell us which of the three of us is administering the punishment to you. If you get it right, you'll be rewarded; wrong, and you'll be further punished. Do you understand?" I was so humiliated, thinking about what was about to happen, and especially by the idea of both my wife and Susan's young grad student witnessing and participating. But I knew I was sunk, and had no choice but to play along. "Yes, ma'am, I understand," I replied. "It's not just 'ma'am,' Bob -- you have three women here who you need to be attentive to," Susan scolded me. I was stumped for few moments, not quite sure how to respond to this. As I sat there, kneeling on the couch, naked from the waist down, trying to figure it out, I quickly felt a sharp slap on my left cheek. "Ow," I shouted in response, without thinking. "What was that?" I heard Susan's voice say. I quickly replied, "I'm sorry, mistresses." "That's better, Bob. Now tell me -- which one of us was it that just laid that blow upon your scrawny little ass?" I thought for just a second, and realized the speed with which I was hit must have meant that it was Susan who inflicted the punishment. There was not enough time for her to have signaled Sarah or Laura to hit me. "It was you, Professor Bascom," I answered. "Oh, very good Bob -- you're doing just fine so far!" And with that, she lightly rubbed my ass, right over what was by now no doubt a very red spot on my cheek. "Okay, ladies," she continued, "why don't the two of you come over here right next to me. Remember to address us appropriately, Bob, and I don't want to hear any whining or complaining." I continued kneeling there as I heard the rustling of people moving around behind me, and after a few seconds, Susan said, "Get ready, Bob, here's the next one." I tensed up, awaiting the next blow to rain down on my ass. It seemed like minutes of anticipation, but I knew it must have only been a few seconds -- and then it hit me, a hard smack upon the other cheek from the first. It took everything in my being to resist crying out in pain, but somehow I managed. I thought for a second, trying to figure out which of the three women hit me. I knew Susan was playing mind games with me, and I was trying to outguess her. I quickly decided she would have had one of the other two land that second blow, and it seemed too hard for it to have been Laura. I suspected she would be a little timid at first, and there was nothing shy about the hand that had just hit me. "That was Mistress Sarah," I said. "Bravo, Bob -- I'm very impressed. You're two for two." I sighed silently, hoping that my stellar performance would bring an end to it. After all, Susan had said I'd be rewarded if I guessed right. But before I could be too proud of myself, another shot landed on the same ass cheek. This one did, in fact, feel lighter than the others, so I quickly said with great confidence, "That would be Laur - er, Mistress Laura." "Oh, I'm sorry, Bob, but you're wrong," Susan replied. "That was my hand again, you're perfect streak is broken. And you know what that means." I steeled myself, ready for more punishment, but after waiting a few seconds, nothing came. "I said, you know what that means, don't you Bob?" I quickly replied in defeat, "Yes, Mistress Susan, it means I will be punished more." "That's right, my little worm." And with that, she -- or somebody -- quickly hit me four more times, twice on each cheek in succession, and there was nothing light about these blows. Again, I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out in pain, but I somehow managed. "That was you, Mistress Susan," I mumbled under my breath. "What was that, Bob, I can't hear you?" Having caught my breath, I spoke up. "That was you, Mistress Susan." "Ah yes, you are definitely learning the feel of my hand upon your ass, you are doing much better now, my pet. I think we're going to stop here for a moment since you're doing so well." I sighed again, happy to have a respite -- no matter how brief -- from the attacks that I knew must have turned my ass cheeks bright red. I began to sit back on my ankles, but somebody tapped me lightly and I heard Sarah this time say, "No Bob, we're not done with you yet." I was surprised to hear Sarah saying this, as I still saw her as more of a passive participant in this whole scene, following along with Susan's lead. But she clearly was playing a more assertive role than I had thought she would. I pulled myself back up to a kneeling position, once again with my head and chest resting on the back of the sofa. "I'll be right back, ladies," Susan said, and I heard her pad off away from the sofa. I realized she must have gone into her bedroom, because I didn't hear the sound of her shoes on the tile of the bathroom floor. A minute or so later, I heard her footsteps approach again. As she came closer, I heard my wife giggle, a sound that sent my mind spinning with questions about what Susan had in mind. For about a minute nothing happened -- no sound of walking, nor any other sound that would clue me in to what was coming next. I was thankful that the spankings had stopped, at least for now. But I was still nervously anticipating Susan's -- and I knew it would be Susan, because she was clearly in charge -- next move. I felt somebody's hands on the inside of my knees perched on the sofa, gently easing them outward, causing me to spread my legs even further than they already were. Even without any words being spoken, it was clear what the intent was. And then I felt it -- a cold, damp sensation at the top of the crack of my ass. I wasn't sure what it was, and strangely, my first thought was that there was some kind of leak from the ceiling. But then I felt the sensation of something very viscous slowly dripping down the crack toward my rosebud. And then I felt more large, cold drops of the same liquid dropped right upon the first spot, and they too dripped down my rosebud, past it, and down my ball sack where it felt like it was pooling in the hair there. It was then that I realized it must have been some sort of lube that Susan had gotten from her bedroom, and she was now dripping it down my ass. I was so embarrassed, thinking about what I must have looked like -- my legs spread wide on the couch, my ass up in the air, lewdly exposed to the three women. And now, some kind of lube dripping down my crack toward my balls. I ground my head even further into the back of the sofa, wishing I could just disappear into it, never to be seen again. Just as I thought I was going to die from shame, I heard the sound of somebody sucking in their breath, as if to try to catch it after seeing something unexpected. I wasn't sure which of the three women it was, but then I heard Susan say, "Yes, my dear, that's quite a sight, isn't it? Professor Arnold crouched there, with his nether regions so beautifully exposed to us, so open to us to do anything we wish, aren't they?" Much to my surprise, it was Laura's voice I heard next. "Yes, ma'am, it is quite a sight." I was surprised that Laura was the one who had reacted as she did. I realized that she must have never been in this position with Susan before, Susan dominating somebody -- especially a man -- the way that she was doing to me. I wasn't sure whether Laura's reaction was one of shock, disgust, or arousal, however; her voice did not betray what she was thinking. "Come here, my pet, come closer," Susan said, most likely to Laura. "I want you to experience this for yourself." I heard Laura walk quietly from the side of me, where she had been, to position herself behind me, next to where I had been hearing Susan's voice coming from. I felt a hand on the back of my head, lightly tracing fingers down the back of my neck, then my back, and down right to the spot just above where Susan had dropped the lube. "I want you to just relax, Bob," Susan said in a soft voice. "You are here for our pleasure, and you know that there is nothing you can do about it, don't you." I lightly nodded my head, resigned once again to my fate. "I want to hear your voice, Bob, I want to hear the confirmation that you submit to our dominance," she said in the same quiet tone. "Yes, Professor Bascom, I understand that I have no choice but to submit to your wishes." "And the others, too, Bob?" I sighed and confirmed, "Yes, Mistress Laura and Mistress Sarah also." "Good, then we will continue. Come here, Laura. Take your finger, and run it up and down Bob's well-lubricated ass." I gasped uncontrollably at the realization of what Susan was now doing. Somehow, hearing her give the instruction out loud to her graduate student, made the entire episode that much more humiliating to me. The thought that this student, who two days ago probably held me in some esteem based on my professional standing, was now standing behind me as I was crouched naked and lewdly displayed to her, ready to submit to whatever she chose to do to me, was just too much to bear. I began quietly sobbing at my predicament. Susan must have heard this, as did Sarah. I felt a hand stroking my hair over the blindfold, and heard Sarah's voice whispering in my ear, "That's okay my love, just relax. You need this; you need to be taught the proper way to respect women. I promise you, no harm will come to you -- I've gotten Susan to agree to that. But you must endure your training." I did my best to fight back the tears, and lightly nodded my head in agreement. All I could do was just hope that they would get this "training" over with as quickly as possible, and then Sarah and I could go on with our lives -- hopefully never to talk about this horrendous experience again. "Okay, Bob, are you ready to continue now?" Susan asked. I sniffled back the tears and replied, "Yes, Professor Bascom." I then felt a finger, Laura's presumably, doing as Susan had instructed. She ran it up and down my crack, and it moved very effortlessly because of the liberal dose of lubrication that had been poured down it. After a minute or two of this, Susan said, "You know what to do next, don't you my pet?" "Yes, ma'am," Laura replied, and then I felt it -- a prodding finger upon my asshole, pressing lightly at first, then more strongly. She was clearly trying to be gentle, but yet at the same time was tactically insistent on what she was going to accomplish. Sarah and I had engaged in anal play many times, so the sensations were not totally foreign to me. The setting, however, was, and it was hard to endure what was happening, but I did my best to steel myself for it. Laura continued rotating her finger around, slowly easing it into my asshole, until the point where I realized she must have been in up to about her first knuckle. Luckily, she was fairly slim built, and her fingers mirrored her body size, so it really was not very painful at all. It was more the humiliation that was getting to me, knowing that this student was fingering me in the ass -- and my wife and professional colleague were watching her do it. And then, before I knew what was happening, the realization hit me that my body was responding to what she was doing. I felt my cock stiffening as she slowly rotated her finger around, and then began pistoning it in and out of my ass. No doubt, Sarah was not surprised; she knew about my submissive nature, and she knew how turned on I could get when she would dominate me anally. But I was surprised at my body's reaction in the face of being watched by these two other women. But somehow my mind must have migrated into that subspace that it reaches when I am being dominated, because I was definitely getting aroused, and I knew my erection would betray me. And right on cue, I heard a clap, and Susan's voice exclaim with glee, "Oh I just knew it -- I just knew he was such a little subbie boy who loved having things stuck up his ass. Look at his funny little penis." All three women giggled at Susan's exclamation of surprise and excitement as Laura continued working her finger in and out of my ass. She was right, and I don't know if she figured it out on her own, or if she had been clued in by Sarah. I was greatly turned on by having my ass played with, especially as part of dominance and submission. It was an involuntary response, even in the face of the situation in which I found myself. I felt fingers close around my now fully-erect cock, and felt the hand stroke lightly up and down the shaft. I was not sure whose fingers they were, but then I heard Susan say, "Yup, no doubt about it -- he likes this!" and I realized it was she who was working my cock. I had to admit it felt good; the combined sensation of Laura's finger in my ass, and Susan's around my cock, was quite a turn on. The Mentor Ch. 04 Susan released my cock, and then I felt fingers -- presumably hers -- joining Laura's on my ass. The fingers wiped up and down my crack a few times, and then before I knew what was happening, they closed again around my cock, this time stroking it even more fluidly than before because of the lubrication. They both continued for a few minutes, Laura pushing her finger even further into my ass. I was afraid that they would make me cum like this as the arousal was building in my body. My breathing became heavier as I was hunched over the back of the couch, but then I felt Susan's fingers release from my cock and I felt a hard smack across my right ass cheek. I yelped an involuntary "Ow!" Susan said, "Tsk, tsk, Bob -- know cumming for you, my pet. You should know that you can only cum when we women give you permission." I resisted the temptation to put my hand back on my sore ass to rub it, and simply replied in a defeated voice, "Yes, Mistress Susan." "That's right, and don't you forget it," she replied. "Okay, Laura, you can stop that." And with that command, I felt her finger removed immediately from my asshole. It felt very open and empty, much more so than it had ten minutes ago. "But we're not done with your training yet, are we ladies?" Susan inquired of the other two. I couldn't see how they reacted, as they did not say anything, but I presumed they nodded in acquiescence. "Yes, we have much more to do." I once again heard and felt Susan step away from behind me, and it sounded like she was walking around in the living room of her hotel suite. I then heard one of the other two women walk away, and then heard the sound of shoes tapping in the bathroom, and the sound of water running. I assumed that was Laura washing her hand after she had been working my asshole so vigorously. I heard both pairs of feet on the carpet as they approached me again. There was no movement for a minute, and then without warning, I sensed a flash through my blindfold. This was quickly followed by two more, and I realized that somebody was taking pictures of me, prostrate over the back of the couch, all spread open for the world to see. Just more evidence that I assumed Susan would be able to use against me in the future. Much to my surprise, though, it was Sarah's voice that I heard next. "Now that will certainly make a pretty picture for us, don't you think my dear?" she asked. "Where do you think we should hang one of those -- in our bedroom, where only you and I would get to see it?" I mumbled to her, "Whatever," which was followed by another, albeit lighter, slap upon my ass. "Is that the proper way to address me, Bob?" she said. "No, Mistress Sarah, I'm sorry. I would rather you not put that picture anywhere, to be honest." She laughed, and said, "Don't worry, I was just joking. But it's nice to know that I have it if I ever decide I do want to use it. Or perhaps even share it with my friends here, right ladies? It will make such a nice complement to the pictures that Susan took the other night in the bathroom." The three of them laughed about that, and then I heard somebody walk away again. I heard something being put down on the glass-topped table, and I hoped it was the camera. Sarah walked back toward me, and I heard her say, "What about this, Professor Bascom? This could be fun?" Susan replied enthusiastically, "Oh yes, it definitely could!" I had no idea what they were talking about, but then I sensed somebody leaning over me. I felt fingers on the blindfold, and it was pulled down below my eyes, but not off my head. I blinked a few times as the bright light of the room assaulted my eyes. As they adjusted, I realized there was something right next to my head. I turned my head that way to get a better look, and my jaw dropped open when I realized what was there. "That's right, Bob," Sarah said. "Think it's time for the next step of your training." To be continued... The Mentor Ch. 05 Liz lay there basking in the glow of her orgasm. Her breathing had returned too normal but her body was still warm and flushed. A light sheen covered her body and she snuggled up closer to Kelly. As the two women lay there Kelly finally broke the silence. "Liz, I was so worried when you didn't call. I really began to wonder what was going on. I thought you didn't care and was feeling alone and abandoned." "Darling," Liz began as she lightly caressed Kelly's shoulder, "the step we took that first day was a big one. I knew you were struggling with your feelings. I knew that you didn't know if this is what you wanted and you weren't sure that it was even right. I had to leave it to you. I could not force you, but had to leave it to you to make the next move so that you understood that it was your decision completely." Kelly looked up at her older lover and smiled. She leaned into Liz and gave her a soft kiss. "You are certainly wiser than I and you are right. I just want you to know that I will always love my husband, but now I know that I can love you as well and that it is all right, in fact better than all right. So, my love, where do we go from here." Liz smiled, kissed Kelly, and said, "I get dressed, get my bag out of the car, and we make dinner for your children. Then we put them to bed and enjoy ourselves." The two women busied themselves around the house. Kelly was excited and aroused at the plan of having Liz spend the night. She was so eager and excited that she tried to hurry the children along to eat their supper, get bathed, and go to bed. Of course the children resisted every step of the way. Finally a little after eight-thirty the children went down to bed for good. Kelly poured two glass of wine and the two women sat on the couch in the family room. The two women sipped their wine and chatted. Finally at nine Liz spoke, "First, when I sleep with my lover, I always sleep nude. I hope you will too." Kelly blushed but shook her head in agreement. "Second, lovemaking is an option any time, all through the night." Kelly nodded again. "Third, I have seen the nice big two person tub in your bathroom and I think we should adjourn to the tub now." The two women headed, hand in hand, to the master bedroom. Kelly lit several candles while Liz filled the tub. Then the two women undressed throwing their clothes on the floor. They climbed in together and snuggled up in the tub. They kissed and then began to wash each other. Kelly closed her eyes as Liz ran her soapy hands all over Kelly's body, and then Kelly washed Liz. The two women got out of the tub and dried off. Once dry Liz took Kelly in her arms and kissed her passionately. Their bodies became one as their mouths parted and their tongues danced in each other's mouths. The kiss and the warmth from the bath made Kelly a bit weak and lightheaded. They walked into the bedroom, turned down the covers and climbed into bed. The two kissed and caressed each other all over. Never before had Kelly felt so excited as Liz explored every inch of Kelly's body with her hands and mouth. Liz kissed her way down Kelly's body and then settled in between the younger woman's legs. Liz put her arms underneath Kelly's legs which caused Kelly to open herself completely to Liz. For a brief moment Kelly felt vulnerable and embarrassed. Her lover could see her most intimate areas. But then Liz's tongue flicked out and rimmed Kelly's brownish pink anus. Kelly shuddered at the feeling. She never knew that should feel so good. She knew that women did that, but that they were naughty, slutty women, but the pleasure took over completely. She let out a deep sigh as Liz licked her from anus to clit. Long, broad, slow strokes. As Liz brought her tongue up Kelly tried to get the older woman to make extended contact with her clit. But Liz's tongue danced away leaving the younger woman frustrated in an exciting way. As Liz licked around the tender inner lips Kelly moved hips trying to get clit to tongue contact, but to no avail. Kelly was so close to cumming that she could barely stand it. She reached down and tried to hold Liz's head in place but she couldn't hold on to the woman's moving tongue. She wanted release and she wanted it now. The more this teasing went on the aroused Kelly became. Liz could smell the excitement coming from Kelly's hot wet pussy. It was a heady, musky scent that Liz just loved. Kelly closed her legs trying to pin Liz's head but the elusive tongue just ran away. "Please let me cum," cried out Kelly. At that moment Liz got up and went to her bag. In the candle light Kelly couldn't exactly make out what she was doing. As Liz came back Kelly's arousal went through the roof. Coming out of Liz's pussy was the other end of a double headed penis shaped dildo. Liz settled in between Kelly's legs and reached down and took hold of the artificial phallus. As Liz lowered her hips Kelly guided the head of the dildo into her pussy. It was well lubed and slid right in. Both women paused for a moment and Liz kissed Kelly. When the kiss was broken both women began to gently thrust their hips. It took a few moments for them to make a perfect rhythm, but then they hit their stride and both of them brought their hips together and then apart. Together and the apart. Liz grabbed Kelly's hands and held them over her head. Kelly had always liked the feeling of submission when her husband did that to her and she loved it now even more. The two women moved together and Liz lowered her head and kissed Kelly's neck As the women moved they both moved closer to the inevitable. Like a sneeze that starts your nose twitching so their clits began to twitch. The heat and the dampness grew within their loins as they pounded away to orgasmic bliss. They began to breathe in unison and they sounded like an old fashioned steam locomotive. Now their hips and bodies began to move of their own accord. No longer driven by thought, they were moving out of the most primitive of desires. The moaned and even grunted like animals. Their pussies leaking copious amounts of fluid, their bodies bathed in sweat as they moved to the peak. And then almost simultaneously they both fell off the cliff. Like free fall the two women exploded into orgasm. "Oh god, Liz, I'm cumming," cried Kelly. Liz let out a groan and answered, "I'm cumming. I love, uh I love you, darling." The two women abandoned all conscious thought to the pleasure that coursed through their bodies. The feeling was overwhelming and they surrendered to it completely. Soon their thrusting began to slow down. Conscious thought returned. They rolled on their sides still connected by the artificial cock they shared. Both women lay their panting. Their hair wet and matted to their foreheads. They looked at each other and began to smile. The smiles turned to giggles and the two women embraced and held each other tight as they reveled in their love and sexuality. Their bodies wet, and sticky the two women just lay, there not ruining the moment with words, but instead just sharing looks of love and devotion. Words and more love would come later. The Mentor Ch. 05 I suggest you read the earlier chapters of this story first. ************* I was utterly defeated, lying across the couch in the hotel room, being watched -- and dominated by my wife Sarah, my professional colleague, Susan Bascom, and her graduate student, Laura. At that point all I wanted was for the ordeal to be over, but I knew it would not be until Susan -- or Mistress Susan, as I was being forced to call her -- decided it would be over. After Laura had stuck her finger up my well-lubricated ass, and Susan had fondled my cock, Sarah stood next to me holding a red, flared butt plug. It was similar to, but not exactly the same, as one of the ones we occasionally used in our play. And she had just suggested that she use it on me, in full view of the two other women. The three of them drew closer, so that they formed a semi-circle around me. As my eyes adjusted to the light after having the blindfold removed, I glanced at the three of them, and they all had smiles on their faces. I could tell they were enjoying this act of my humiliation, relishing in the power they held over me. But it was more than that; something else was gnawing at me as I waited on the couch, my ass, dripping with lube, sticking out at them, and my cock still erect. They stood still, not saying a word. I thought perhaps Susan was going to spank me again, or perhaps she was just waiting to decide what to do. And then it hit me -- I smelled something very familiar. It was the scent of female arousal. I was not sure which of them was secreting the scent, or perhaps it was all three, but there was no question that at least one of them was getting off on this sexually. I knew that Susan had been aroused earlier, that was for sure, but for some reason I suspected she wasn't the only one that I was now smelling. At first I was shocked, because I saw the entire thing as a power play on Susan's, and later, Laura and Sarah's parts. But then it occurred to me that there was no reason they should not enjoy the wielding of power as a sexual thrill as well. I knew how turned on Sarah got when we practiced dominance and submission, so why shouldn't the same be true for the other two women as well? I sneaked a peek over my shoulder at the three of them, and they were glancing at each other, looking somewhat unsure what to do next. They looked at one another, then down at me, catching my glance. I turned away in shame, and buried my head once again in the upholstered back of the sofa. "Please, just get it over with," I thought to myself, too scared to express the thought, however, for fear it would just prolong the ordeal. And then I heard Susan's voice. "Would you like to go ahead, Sarah, you've obviously had the most experience in this situation," she said. Sarah hesitated for a second or two, but then responded, "Oh no, Susan, you're right -- I get to do this all the time. Perhaps it would make more of an impression on him if you or Laura had the honors." Susan chuckled for a moment. "Yes, you're right. We are trying to train the little subbie, so we want to maximize the effect. Let's see -- you had the opportunity to stick your finger up his ass, Laura" -- just hearing those words made me cringe -- "so I think I will be the one to stick this up there. So listen up, Bob -- here are your instructions. I am going to stick this plug up your subbie little ass, and you're going to take it like a man -- no whining or complaining. Do you understand?" Without hesitation, I responded, "Yes, Mistress Bascom." "Good. After I put it in there, you'll need to make sure it stays. If you lose it, you'll be further punished. Do you understand that, too?" "Yes, ma'am." And without saying another word, I felt the tip of the plug touching my anal ring. Fortunately, it had been well lubricated by Laura's fingers, so I hoped it would not hurt too much. Susan gave it a firm, continuous push, and it quickly popped into my ass, the flared part entering enough that it would be held there by the contraction of my anal muscles. I grunted to myself as she shoved it in, but managed to take it without uttering anything. It was about the same size as one Sarah and I had used, so I knew what to expect. And I also had had experience holding it there, so I hoped that I would be able to do so under these somewhat more adverse circumstances. "Very good, my pet," I heard Susan saying. "You took the whole thing. Doesn't he look just wonderful, ladies, lying there, his butt sticking out, with that red plug filling his subbie little asshole so beautifully." Laura said in a somewhat hushed voice, "Oh yes, Professor Bascom." Sarah didn't say a word. I kept my head buried in the sofa back, but I kept smelling the scent of female arousal. I was sure at this point that the scene was becoming a big turn-on for at least some of them. "Just look at him ladies, so subservient, kneeling there with his butt plug, willing to do whatever we say, aren't you Bob?" I didn't answer until I felt a soft swat on my ass. "Yes, Professor Bascom," I replied. "Yes what, Bob?" "Yes, I'll do whatever you want. I just want this to be over with and get out of here." "Well, it won't be over with until I decide it's over, is that clear, pet," she responded. "Yes, ma'am." I felt her take a step closer to me, and heard her say in a soft voice -- loud enough, I realized, for the other two women to hear -- "You're not getting off that easily, Bob. You still have work to do." She leaned back again and said, "Laura, pet, get the scarf and put it back on Professor Arnold's eyes. I don't think he needs to see for what we're going to do next." "Yes, ma'am," I heard Laura reply, and then felt the silk of Susan's scarf on my eyes, once again plunging me into darkness. After a few seconds, I had the same feeling as earlier, that the removal of my sense of sight had worked to heighten my other senses, and I could hear every movement they made. I could also smell the female arousal as they stood near me, and I was convinced at this stage that it was all three of them I was smelling. "Okay, Bob, come down off that couch." I began to ease back off of my knees to stand, and as I did, I felt a hand reach for my upper arm to steady me. I stood up, grateful to have the pressure off of my knees. "Okay, follow me," Susan said, and I felt a gentle push on my back as the other hand continued to guide me by my upper arm. I was very aware of the butt plug Susan had shoved up my ass, and was careful to keep my ass muscles clenched as I walked so as not to lose it. I walked forward, and judging from where I had been standing, I figured we must have been heading for the bedroom. I heard three pairs of footsteps following alongside and just behind me. After walking about ten steps, Susan said, "Okay, stop, and now stand there." I halted, and I felt hands on my upper body. I realized that somebody was taking off my shirt, feeling the sleeves pulled down off of my arms, rendering me totally naked in front of the three women. After the person, presumably Susan, pulled away, I heard the sound of whispering. Even with the blindfold on, though, I could not hear what was being said, and there were no giggles or other reactions from the other two women to betray what was said. But then I heard the soft rustling of more clothing, and I suspected that they too were getting undressed. After a few more moments, Susan spoke once more. "Okay Bob, we're going to help you get on the bed, lying on your back." I now felt arms on either side of me, guiding me forward, until I felt my lower legs hit the bed. I kneeled on to it, and crawled forward until I figured I must have been near the head, and turned around to lie on my back. As I eased myself down, I felt my head resting on what felt like two or three pillows stacked on top of one another, so that I was horizontal on the bed, but was in fact propped up quite a ways. I was grateful to be lying on my back, knowing that that would help keep the butt plug in with less effort. I heard more whispering and then heard the women walking around in the room a bit. It sounded like one of them had walked out of the room. "Well Bob," Susan started up again. "You did pretty well on the last test we gave you, so we don't need to punish you anymore. Not yet, at least." I breathed a silent sigh of relief, because as I had lied down on the bed I was aware not just of the butt plug but also of the feel of the bedspread on my still sore ass cheeks, from where I had been spanked. "See, you're not going to be punished more, but we do still have a little bit of training to do. As we said, you still need to learn the proper, respectful way to treat a woman, and I'm not yet convinced that you understand everything you need to do. I've discussed this with Sarah, and she agrees there are some things that you are not quite as good at. She acknowledged to me that you are a good lover, but you can still stand to learn a few things. So the three of us are going to help you with that. Okay Bob?" she asked. "Yes, Mistress Susan," I responded, hoping that if I cooperated and played along this would be the end of it all. "Good, so glad to have your acquiescence," Susan responded. I heard the footsteps of somebody walking back into the room. "But we have a little problem, here. I enjoyed seeing Bob so aroused before ladies, when my graduate student was plunging her finger in and out of Bob's subbie little ass." I cringed at the memory. "And I thought that the butt plug would keep him in a state of arousal, but it's obviously not doing the trick," she continued. "Laura, get up there, sweetie, and see if you can't help him out a little bit. And Bob, don't get so aroused that you even think about cumming -- you need to remember that I control that, right?" "Yes, ma'am," I answered in a soft voice. I had no idea what she was going to do, but I felt somebody getting on the bed near me. I felt a hand on my cock, which just as Susan had pointed out, had gotten flaccid again. The hand -- presumably Laura's -- began to gently stroke it, but just as it was starting to get hard again, Susan said in a sharp voice, "Wait a minute -- stop." As she spoke, I felt the hand removed and my semi-erect cock flopped back to my belly. "I have a better idea -- why don't you do that yourself, Bob -- no need for Laura to waste the effort," she said with a chuckle. I felt Laura sit back away from me, but still on the bed, and I realized quickly what Susan expected of me. She wanted me to touch myself, exposed to these three women, while they watched. Once again, with the hope that it would soon be over, I realized I had to comply. Normally, the idea of touching myself in front of three women like that would be erotic, but not in this setting where I had no control and was doing so only because of being forced to by this domineering woman. I sighed, and reached my hand over and began to touch my cock. After a few strokes, it had sprung to life, and after just a few more it had returned to the state it had been earlier when I was bent over the couch and Laura was fingering me. I stopped, and put my hand back at my side, my cock now pointed upward. "Oh no, Bob, don't stop," Susan said, "we want to see you continue that, don't we ladies? But remember, not too far, or you'll be punished again." I couldn't see, of course, but I presumed that Sarah and Laura nodded in agreement. They appeared to be going along with everything Susan wanted, even though I still carried some hope that Sarah would come to her senses and call a halt to the whole thing and get me out of there. With no other choice, I reached over and began to lightly stroke my cock again. It did feel good, even in that humiliating setting, though I knew I was nowhere near cumming. After continuing for a few minutes. I heard whispering again, and I felt Laura (at least I presumed it was still Laura) shifting on the bed. And then I felt a cold liquid on the tip of my cock and my hands, and I realized it must have been more of the lube that one of the three of them had earlier retrieved from the other room. I felt the bed stir again, and sensed somebody close to my head. I then heard Sarah's voice whispering in my ear, "Feels good, Bob, doesn't it?" And I realized it must have been her who had poured the lube on me. I didn't reply, but just continued to stroke my cock. Yes, it did feel good, but I still did not like being forced to do this in front of the three of them. Sarah was still sitting next to me on the bed, with Laura over on the other side. I continued a couple of more minutes, and felt myself getting more aroused. Just as I thought I was getting close, Susan must have sensed this, because she said, "Okay, Bob, that's enough for now. We just wanted to get you plenty aroused so you'd have your senses heightened for the remainder of your training." I stopped touch myself, my cock still pointing toward the ceiling. Hearing the word "remainder," I had a glimmer of hope that perhaps we were approaching the end of the torment I had been experiencing. "Okay Laura, you first," Susan said. I didn't know what she meant, but I heard Laura shifting around and moving on the bed. She apparently knew what to do, so this must have been what the whispering was about earlier. I also felt Sarah shifting around a bit on the other side of me, but she just moved a little bit away but I could still feel her weight on the bed next to me. And then I felt Laura on top of me, straddling my chest. I felt no clothes on her, so I realized she must have disrobed when I heard the rustling of clothes after my shirt had been removed. And there was no question what I smelled -- a woman's wet pussy in a high state of arousal. She was sitting on my chest, about halfway between my head and my cock, and I waited expectantly for her to shift forward bringing her pussy in contact with my mouth. I assumed Susan was going to have me service her orally as part of my "training." But there I waited a few seconds, with Laura astride me, making no apparent moving at scooting forward. I didn't know what to do, so I just lie there, waiting. Finally, Susan spoke. "Okay, Bob, here's your task. You're going to be trained to worship women, to treat them with all the respect they deserve, demonstrating to us that you understand our position of dominance over you lowly men. You are going to show us how well you can pleasure us, putting our gratification above your own. Only through this kind of training will you learn how to properly respect women, putting them -- and their needs, desires, and yes, even their careers -- ahead of your own. It is this discipline that you must learn. Do you understand, pet?" I couldn't respond at first, just shocked at what she was doing. I was not surprised that she was using me in this way given where things had been heading, but the way she was framing it -- that my being used as a "sex toy" to bring pleasure to a woman -- was a way of getting me to properly respect and acknowledge women's dominance over men was unexpected. I heard her say in a slightly louder voice, "I asked you a question, Bob. I want an answer." I started for a second at the sound of her voice, and pulled myself together. "Yes, ma'am, I understand," I responded, knowing what she was expecting to hear. "Not good enough, Bob. I want you to tell me -- no, tell us -- what it is you understand." I hesitated for a second, trying to make sure I did in fact understand what she was saying. After gathering my thoughts, I replied, "I understand that the purpose of this training is for me to learn how women are superior to men. That I need to put them first, before men. Is that correct, Professor Bascom?" She laughed, and said, "Good enough, my pet. I think you get the gist of it. Okay, Laura, you may begin." And with that I felt Laura scoot forward until I felt her pussy hair tickling my chin. Unlike Susan, who I had learned in the hotel bathroom two nights ago was shaven clean, and Sarah, who usually trimmed her pussy hair, Laura was quite bushy and her hairs quickly brushed my nose. It became quickly apparent to me that she had in fact been aroused by what had occurred, because I immediately got a strong whiff of her arousal as her crotch approached my face. I opened my mouth, prepared to service her orally. As I did, she scooted forward just a bit, almost enveloping my nose and mouth with her pussy. Her arousal that had been signaled by her scent was confirmed by the wetness that I immediately felt all over my lower face. I began to softly lick her labia, first the large outer ones, then the smaller inner ones. I worked on one side, and then the other, lightly licking and stroking them with my tongue. Every now and then, I felt Laura shift around a bit, seeming to try to get better contact between her pussy and my face. After a few moments of this, I felt a hand on my cock again. It had stayed erect, being fueled by the erotic sensation of licking Laura. I had to admit it was not unpleasant, and tasting, feeling, and smelling how aroused she was was also turning me on. The hand was lightly stroking my cock, a very nice feeling. I couldn't tell if it was Laura, reaching behind her, or one of the other women. I was brought out of my reverie by Susan's voice in my ear. Somehow she had gotten so close, and I hadn't even realized it. "Remember, Bob -- you may not cum, or you will be punished again." I couldn't respond, of course, with my mouth being totally consumed by Laura's pussy, but Susan had to have known I heard her. I tried to put out of my mind what the hand was doing to me, but it was very difficult. I was really concentrating on my tongue and lips pleasuring Laura, but still, I felt my own arousal growing. And then it stopped -- just like that, it was gone, and I was left once again with my cock aiming skyward. I continued licking Laura, now starting to move my tongue more deeply into her pussy. Her folds felt very smooth, and her taste was not unpleasant. I tried to reach the sides of her vagina as best I could, and she continued to shift around a bit. Her wetness seemed to be increasing, so I suspect that my ministrations were having the desired effect. I then pulled my tongue out of her pussy and reached upward to flick it over her clit, which was not hard to find. It was quite prominent and was sticking way out of its hood, which appeared to have retracted some to provide me easy access to the clit. As I did this for a minute or so, she began to rock up and down on my face, and I suspected that she was getting close to an orgasm. I could hear her breathing getting heavier, and she was rocking faster, and I did my best to maintain contact with her clit, even though my tongue was getting very tired. Just as I thought she was ready to explode, I heard Susan say in a gentle but firm voice, "That's enough, pet, now get off of him." Laura groaned, still continuing to rock on my face. "Please, Mistress, I am so close, please let me cum." "No, pet, you know the rule -- you only come when I give you permission when we are together. And you too need to learn the proper discipline if you are going to grow into a woman who can use her influence over men. So get off of him right now, my dear, and return to your spot on the bed." I heard Laura sigh, and felt her ease off of my face, leaving me covered in her secretions. She had been so wet that it was literally dripping down my cheeks in little rivulets. As she got up, I felt a soft kiss on my cheek, and she whispered in my ear, "You were very good," and giggled a bit before I felt her sitting again by my side on the bed. "Okay, Bob, catch your breath," I heard Susan say. I had been breathing very heavily from the exertion and from the weight of Laura on my chest, so I tried my best to catch my breath. I felt some kind of cloth on my face, sopping up Laura's wetness that had been deposited there. It must have been Sarah doing that. The Mentor Ch. 05 I lie there for what seemed like two or three minutes, nothing happening. Then I felt Sarah on the other side of me getting up, and she too plopped herself down on my chest. I hadn't heard anything, so Susan must have given her some kind of silent signal. But then I heard her voice once more, "Okay, Bob, you know what to do," and with that, Sarah scooted forward on to my face. This was a much more familiar sensation to me, of course. Sarah's trimmed pussy fit right over my mouth, in a position I had certainly been in before. While this was not something we did frequently, she did like to sit on my face like this when we played around with dominance and submission. It was one of her favorite ways of having me service her; she had told me that there was something about towering over me, trapping my head between her thighs, that made her feel very superior and dominant. I don't know if Susan had gotten this idea from Sarah, or whether she had come up with it on her own, but in any event I began using my tongue on my wife's pussy. Knowing Sarah as I did, it did not take very long for her to get going. She had not been nearly as aroused as had Laura, judging from the difference in how wet she was compared to the graduate student when each had mounted my face. But Sarah quickly caught up as my tongue got to work. I took one of her outer labia between my lips and started to gently suck on it, something that I knew drove her wild. I repeated on the other, and then ran my tongue all around each of her inner lips. She was getting wetter and wetter, and she too began to move around. Unlike Laura, though, who rocked up and down, Sarah was moving in more of a circular motion, almost like she was rubbing her pussy all over my face. As I worked my tongue on her labia, I heard her breathing get heavy and heard her say, "Yes, that is so good, give it to me Bob." I knew she was getting close, and wondered if Susan was going to stop her, too, before she orgasmed. I knew what was going to bring her over the top, and went right for it. I pushed my neck up a bit so that I could get my lips around her clit, and began to suck on it. This had the expected effect, and she began to moan even louder, "Yes, yes, yes, that's it." I waited for Susan to stop her, but not hearing anything, continued sucking her clit even harder. And then it hit -- a huge orgasm, as she ground her pussy on my face, shaking violently, her juices running all over it. As she came down, I eased up on the sucking, just the way that I knew she liked, and after 30 seconds or so her body stopped shaking and she rolled off of me. "Oh god," was all she could say. Susan laughed, and said, "Well, it looked like you certainly enjoyed that, my dear! I'd say your husband is doing a good job learning just how to take care of a woman, aren't you Bob?" I had been wiping my wife's wetness off of the lower half of my face with the back of my hand, and managed to mumble, "Yes, ma'am." Susan laughed again, and I felt hands around the top of my head, and the scarf was lifted off of it. My eyes were shocked by the light, even though the room was lit by just a rather dim lamp over in one corner, and I blinked a few times trying to recover from it. After a bit, I was able to look around and take in the sights around me. There was enough light to allow me to see that on one side of me on the bed was my wife, curled up, still breathing heavily, with what I could see was a very wet pussy. I turned the other way, and there was Laura, the graduate student sitting naked and cross-legged looking over at Sarah. I saw for the first time tonight her very bushy pussy that fifteen minutes ago I had been licking to abandon. And standing at the foot of the bed was Susan, but unlike the other two, she was wearing the silk dressing gown in which she had greeted me what seemed like hours earlier. I suspected that her remaining clothed, at least partially so, while the other two women were naked, was part of the power play for her. She moved forward, and kneeled on the bed at my feet. She leaned forward, reached out and put her hand on my cock, and began to lightly stroke it. It had been almost fully at attention while I was licking my wife, but Susan's touch brought it even more so. "I can see you are enjoying your training, aren't you, pet," she said, looking me in the eye. I could do nothing but nod, knowing that any other response would be interpreted as a lie given the state of my erection. I then realized this wouldn't suffice, and said, "Yes, Professor Bascom." "I thought so," she replied, "because like most men ultimately what you want is to please a woman. I agree you've been learning to do that very, very well, my little subbie. And you'll be happy to hear that your training is almost over." Given what she said, and what had transpired, I suspected that my denouement would be to perform the same acts on her. That would fit right in with the entire evening, with her orchestrating of the events right from the beginning. In fact, it would fit right in with everything she had done to me ever since she had first caught me spying on her and Laura in the bathroom two nights earlier. She continued to lightly stroke my cock, gazing back and forth at the two other women with a wry smile on her face. I was getting even more aroused, and was doing everything I could to stop from cumming. Susan looked at Laura and said to her, "How about you, poor pet -- you were pretty aroused grinding your sweet little pussy on Professor Arnold's face, weren't you?" This reminder of my servitude to her, along with Susan's coarse, humiliating language to describe it, led to a deflation of my erection just a bit. It must have been a little humiliating for Laura, also, because she looked down at her hands as she answered, "Yes, ma'am, I was -- or should say, am, very aroused." "And I always take care of you, don't I, pet," Susan replied to her. "Yes, Professor Bascom, you do take care of me." "Well, then I won't leave you hanging there, sweetie," and I thought Susan was going to tell her to mount herself on my face once again. But to my surprise, she said to her, "You can go ahead and touch yourself." I was shocked by this response, but Laura, much to my surprise, did not appear shocked at all. She simply said, "Thank you, Mistress," and proceed to spread her legs out, lowered her right hand, and began to stroke it in and out of her still-wet pussy. There was no sound in the room other than the squishing noise as Laura pistoned her finger in and out of her pussy. I surmised from Laura's response that this must have been part of their routine, that as Laura's Mistress, Susan probably made her touch herself to orgasm quite frequently. I looked over on my other side, and saw that Sarah had apparently recovered from her crashing orgasm, was breathing more normally, and had now propped herself up on one elbow to watch the action unfolding. Her gaze was glued to Laura as the young graduate student added first a second, and then a third finger to her first and began pushing all three in and out of her pussy. It did not take long before Laura's breathing quickened and I could see she would orgasm soon. I had clearly brought her to the brink, and the little bit of work she was now doing to touch herself would get her over the edge. With a loud, "Ohhhhhhh," she came, the wetness of her pussy now gushing over the bedspread, leaving a large wet spot between her legs. She fell over, exhausted, on her side in a similar position to which Sarah had been just a few minutes earlier. Susan walked over to that side of the bed, and reached down and began lightly stroking Laura's hair. "There you go, pet, wasn't that nice," she said to her in a soothing voice. As Laura was able to catch her breath, she responded, "Yes, Mistress, thank you so much." "You know I always take care of you, don't you my dear." "Yes, ma'am," Laura said, still somewhat in a halted voice. Susan now looked over at me, not saying a word. I looked over at her, not sure what would be happening next, somewhat curious, but also apprehensive. She reached down, and undid the tie holding her silk robe together. It fell open, displaying for me once again her shaved pussy and full breasts. Even in the dim light of the room I could see that her arousal was demonstrated by her nipples, which were standing at attention. It was clear that she had been enjoying the events that had been taking place. She shrugged the robe off of her shoulders, and walked over and placed it on a chair in the bedroom of the suite. She walked around to the side of the bed where Sarah was, leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Sarah shifted around toward the foot of the bed, making a space for Susan where she had just been. Susan sat on the bed, and reached over and again began lightly stroking my cock. It quickly grew erect again, for what seemed like the tenth time tonight. She continued this for a couple of minutes until Laura was able to recover from her orgasm, and was able to sit up once again. She watched what Susan was doing with rapt attention, as was Sarah, from where she was seated on the foot of the bed. Susan turned to me and said, "Okay, pet, you've done very well so far. Are you now ready for the final part of your training?" "Yes, Mistress Susan," I replied, looking her in the eye. "Good, I hope that this last activity will provide you with a clear understanding of your role with respect to women. After all, that was the purpose of all this, right?" "Yes, ma'am." She smiled at me, and proceeded to get up on her knees next to me on the bed. She then, like the others, kicked a leg over my chest and began to straddle me. Knowing the drill, I prepared for her to sit on my face like the others had done, closed my eyes in anticipation of the event one more time, and waited. I felt Susan scoot forward a bit and pull herself up off of my chest just a little bit, and I got my tongue ready. But then she stopped. "Open your eyes, pet, and look at me." Not sure she was talking to me rather than Laura, I nevertheless opened them again. She was looking down at me from above, her shaved pussy only two inches or so from my face, hanging over my upper chest. I waited in anticipation, guessing that part of her mind game was to make sure I watched her pussy coming down on my face. "Don't take your eyes off of me," she said. I did as instructed, looking at her without blinking, holding my breath. And then she began to rise off of me, kicking her leg over to the side, and for a moment, I thought maybe she had relented and decided I had had enough. I let out a breath, thinking that my ordeal was over. But then instead of stopping, she continued her rotation 180 degrees, so that she was now straddling me again. But this time, she was facing toward my feet (and Sarah at the end of the bed). Instead of her pussy being inches from my face, it was her round, plump ass cheeks that were sitting on my upper chest. I stared at them, as the realization began to sink in as to what was going to happen. She was so close that I could not take in the whole sight in one view; I had to swivel my head a bit to look at one cheek, and then the other, split down the middle by her crack which started four or five inches or so above my chest and went down, disappearing somewhere in the middle of my chest. "I told you to look at me," I heard Susan hiss, grabbing my attention back. I looked up at the sound of her voice, and saw her looking back over her shoulder at me. "You better do a good job, as good as you did with the other two, or we're going to be staying right here for a long, long time. Now get started." Before I could say anything, she lifted up her ass, scooted back so that her crack was right above my mouth, and plopped down right on my lips. For a brief second I thought she was going to suffocate me, as I was taking the full weight of her upper body on my mouth and covering my nose. But then she lifted up a bit and I realized she was getting herself settled down on top of me, supporting most of her weight on her knees and thighs. I hesitated for a second, never having been in this situation before. In all of our dominance and submission sessions, Sarah had never made me do this to her. Yes, I had performed cunnilingus on her many times, but I had never been forced to lick her ass. I didn't know what to expect; like most, I had the taboo of this being a dirty, forbidden part of the body. But I knew from Susan's tone, and from everything else that had happened, that my ordeal would not be over until I submitted to her demand. The olfactory sensation was different from the other two women. I definitely smelled Susan's arousal when she first sat down facing me, a scent I had experienced before in the last two days. But now that she was turned around, her pussy facing away from me, the aroma was a different one. There was just a hint of her pussy, overwhelmed by a stronger, muskier odor that I knew was emanating from the rear part of her body. It was not disgusting me, it was just different. I tentatively opened my mouth, and extended my tongue, and began to lightly lick one of her ass cheeks. It was smooth, covered with a very soft, downy hair, quite different from when I licked her pussy, the outside of which was rougher and just barely stubbly from having been shaved or waxed some time earlier. I continued licking around her cheek, as far as I could reach, given that I could only partially swivel my head as she had me effectively pinned. It was too big to reach all of it, at least from this position, but I did the best I could running both the tip and flat part of my tongue around her cheek, depositing some saliva where I went. Every now and then she shifted around a bit, providing me an opportunity reach parts of the cheek I had not yet explored. After a few minutes of this, I shifted my attention to the other cheek, repeating the pattern. In all of this I avoided getting too close to her crack, which I could see had somewhat darker, heavier hairs on it from the top down to where it disappeared on top of my chest. She again shifted around, providing me with the opportunity to run my tongue all over her cheek again. As I did this, she began to stroke my cock, getting it fully erect once more. After a few minutes on this side, she scooted down toward my feet, and I thought perhaps it would be over. She looked over her should again, down at me. "Very good, my little subbie boy. But there's still more for you to do," she said with a wry smile on her face. With that she stopped stroking me, and bent her body further forward, so that her large breasts were down around my knees, and she scooted back toward my face. This had the effect of splitting her two cheeks a bit, and bringing my face directly in contact with the crack of her ass. She left no doubt in my mind as to what she now wanted me to do. She didn't need to say anything else. I again opened my mouth, and with my tongue, tentatively reached out and touched the top of her crack, which I could just reach in the position she was in. I ran it up and down the part of her crack I could feel, the musky scent surrounding my face, an intoxicating aroma enveloping me. As I did this, and realizing that the taste was not unpleasant, I pressed a little harder, leaving a little more saliva as lubrication as my tongue continued its travel up one side of the crack and down the other. She then lifted up off of my chest a bit more, causing me to stop what I was doing, and giving my tongue a respite. She then shifted back even further, and there, right in front of me, was her wrinkled rosebud. The skin was redder than the rest of her ass, a star pattern, the size of a nickel or so, right in front of me, glistening with the combination of my saliva that had run down her crack, and, I suspected, her own juices from her pussy that had run back there. I realized this was where she had been heading all night, the ultimate part of my training: forcing me to service her ass with my tongue. I opened my mouth once again, extended my tongue, and touched it gently to her rosebud. The sensation was what I expected, given its appearance; it was wrinkly, yet soft. I began by running the tip of my tongue in a circular motion around the ring, getting it even wetter. As I did this I thought I heard an imperceptible sigh emanating from her face which was pressed down on my legs. I continued the circling, and as I did, the rosebud began to loosen up and give way slightly. This emboldened me to push toward it with the tip of my tongue, and as I did, it opened up further, allowing just a slight bit of entry. As I did this, Susan pushed back against me just a bit, making it easier for me to push harder. I did so, and I could feel my tongue gaining more entry into her now very wet asshole. There was definitely more than just a muted sigh coming from Susan now, it was more like a moan. It was clear she was enjoying what I was doing, so I hoped that if I continued she would eventually orgasm and get off of me. My tongue was getting quite sore from all the pushing I was doing, but she didn't seem ready to relent, at least not yet. I kept extending my tongue into her ass and retracting it, trying to roll it around a bit when it was in her asshole. The wetter it got, the easier this was, and the more she was pushing back against me. Her moans picked up, keeping pace with the rocking of her plump ass against my face, until finally, she let out a wail and yelled, "PUSH IT IN DEEP!" I did as she told, pushing with all my might, rolling it around inside of her asshole, and finally, she came with a hard grunt, riding my face and tongue. I did my best to hold on as she rocked rapidly back and forth, until she began to slow down, and then stopped, leaning back forward again, her body heaving up and down as her breathing slowed. I gladly retracted my tongue, giving it the break it so sorely needed. After a few moments, Susan lifted herself up, and turned 180 degrees again, so that she was straddling me but now facing me. She looked down at me, and with a smile, said, "See pet, you've learned how to truly please a woman. I think you now understand your role in life, that you are here to keep women happy and to make sure they are pleasured. Don't you?" Utterly defeated, I nodded and simply said, "Yes, Mistress," happy to have the ordeal apparently over. As Susan climbed off of me, she sat next to me on the bed. She reached over and wrapped her hand around my cock, which was still quite erect. She looked at me, and smiling again, said, "But look, your pretty little subbie cock is still sticking up in the air, isn't it?" She turned toward Sarah and Laura, and asked them, "What do you think we should do about it, ladies?" They both giggled, Sarah saying, "Whatever you think, Professor Bascom. You're the Mistress!" Laura simply shrugged her shoulders, indicating concurrence with what Sarah had said. "Well, pet, we simply can't having you walking around like this, now can we? Tell you what -- you've done such a good job servicing the three of us, you deserve a little bit of that reward I talked about earlier. You even managed to get me off simply by sticking that wonderful tongue of yours right up my dirty ass. You didn't even have to touch my pussy you were so good." With that, she got up on her knees, and threw one leg over me, straddling me once again and facing me this time. I thought maybe she was going to have me lick her pussy now, but instead of shifting forward, she instead lifted herself up a bit, moved back, and plopped her very wet pussy right on top of my erect cock which had been sticking straight up. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I didn't think there was any way she was going to do that, and yet there she was, sitting right on top of my cock. And she then began lifting up and down on it, the feeling of her wet, fully aroused pussy on my cock admittedly quite nice. I knew it was not going to take long to cum with all the stimulation I had had, so I lay back, closed my eyes, and waited for my orgasm to approach. The Mentor Ch. 05 But after about 30 seconds of this, Susan surprised me by lifting herself off of me, saying as she did so, "There, that should be enough I would think." I had no clue what she was doing, so I opened my eyes, looking up into hers. "You didn't think I was going to let you fuck me, did you, my pet?" I was speechless for a second, but then managed to begin to mumble something about how I thought that's what she was doing. "Oh no," she replied, "I was simply getting it nice and lubricated for you. You're going to get yourself off while we three women watch you." I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words to respond to what she had just said. I simply lay there, my mouth open, stunned beyond belief at this final humiliation she was doling out to me. "C'mon now, get to it before my lubrication dries up on you," she chuckled. I could do nothing other than reach down with my hand, and begin stroking. She had gotten it very wet with her pussy juice, and my hand rode easily up and down the shaft. I looked down past my cock and I could see Sarah watching intently. I could see Susan next to her, watching also, with a broad smile on her face. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Laura on the other side, also watching. "That's right, keep going," Susan urged me on. "Isn't he doing a great job wanking himself for us, ladies?" Again, the other two just laughed and continued to watch. I continued the up and down motion, and I knew that in spite of everything that had happened, that I would cum soon. And I would be happy to, hoping that that would close the door on this torment. Up and down I continued, willing my orgasm to come, and finally it did, my cum spurting up in the air, depositing itself all over my hand and my stomach, as I grunted through it. I heard Susan clap her hands and exclaim, "See, I knew he could do it. Professor Arnold has now learned that his job is to bring pleasure to women, and if he wants any of his own, it's up to him to provide it. Right, pet?" She tossed me the towel that had been on the bed and had been used previously to wipe my face. I glared at her as I wiped the cum off of my hand and stomach. "That's okay, pet, you don't have to respond." And with a wink, she turned to the other two and said, "I know he gets it now." With that she got up, retrieved her robe and put it back on. She turned back to me and said, "Put your clothes on, Bob, and take Sarah back to your room. Laura, go get yourself cleaned up and then come on back here." I got up, as did Sarah. I yanked the butt plug out of my ass, depositing it on the bed. Sarah put her clothes on, and I retrieved mine, putting them on in the living room of the suite. We headed toward the door to the hall, and after Sarah walked out into the hall, Susan came out of the bedroom and said, "Bye, Bob. I hope you enjoyed all the mentoring I've provided you." Without looking back at her, I walked out the door, closed it, and led Sarah back to my room. THE END